A Taint of Wicked
by Mzzmarie
Summary: The company is taken prisoner by the elves of Mirkwood. But has something even more sinister taken prisoner of Thranduil? For Thorin & co. it is a bad time to find oneself in the dungeons of Mirkwood. HURT/Kili & HURT/Bofur
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first FFic :S Sorry – no Beta yet, and I have no idea what I am doing *lol* So reviews are welcomed please! **

**Rating may go up in future chapters – you can expect lots of hurt/comfort, violence, and some gory torture. **

**Since I first read the Hobbit in grade 5 (age 10), I fell in love with Tolkien's world and I have remained a loyal fan ever since. I own NONE of the characters – praise be to Tolkien ;) . I am simply an adoring fan. **

**No mary-sues here. I try to stick to canon, although I have obviously changed the order of events a bit :P**

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**A Taint of Wicked**

**Chapter One**

Something had seeped into the ground like an oil, tainting everything it touched with a slick coating of something vile and infectious. Legolas crouched low to the ground, examining the putrid remains of what at one time, had been a beautiful little grey rabbit. Now its' eyes were black and lifeless, and the "oil" that seemed to fester in Mirkwood, now oozed from its gaping little mouth. Legolas frowned, and found a patch of unspoilt grass for which to lay the poor creature down. The forest was sad, the animals very frightened, and Legolas was anxious. What evil had seeped into Mirkwood, and where had it come from? Legolas cast his eyes west, his vision skipping through the dense thicket to see the path that led back to the halls. He had suspected something foul was amiss for weeks, and had often spoke of it to Thranduil although the King spoke less and less as the days passed into darkness.

"Adar, something foul haunts the woods. Surely you must feel it."

"Hmpf" his father sorted in disgust. "If something evil had dared set foot on our land, I surely would feel it. This "oil" you speak of is folly. It is none of your _*achk ahhhhck!_" Thranduil broke into a coughing fit, and immediately spun away from his son so that his keen eyes could not see the dark phlegm that had spewed forth during his fit, and was now splattered on the milky-white of his palm.

"Adar, are you ill?!"

"No," Thranduil snapped. "Return to your duties. Scout the Northern border." And with a wave of his other hand, he dismissed his son as one would a troublesome horsefly.

Legolas cast his eyes downwards, issuing his father's back a short bow as he left to do his bidding. But heavy were his steps, leaden with the weight of his worried heart for what was happening to Mirkwood – for he feared that the shadow had not only befallen the forest, but his perhaps even his father.

And so now he stood alone on the Northern border of the kingdom, watching as the moss seemed to rot before his very eyes. And then he heard it. Far off in the distance, and yet it was akin to mighty waves crashing upon the rocks. In one fell motion, he slipped a bow from his quiver and had it nocked, pointing in the direction on of all the commotion. The young prince's heart, albeit heavy with the sorrow laid upon his home, now beat rapidly as he tried to anticipate just what on earth could be causing such a racket. A cave troll? No, that was silly. But then again, strange days were now afoot.

His eyes pieced through the veils of dense foliage and spotted a mass of bouncing…..fur? Hair? Hair _and _fur! And then he saw eyes, gaping wide in fear. Dwarves! _Oh good grief, of all the days to scout alone. Adar shall have my head! _Legolas cursed himself in silence as he kept his bow trained on the incoming stampede of dwarves. Something had to have been chasing them to have lit such a fire beneath their heels. And then, amidst the yelling and the trampling of all the poor underbrush, Legolas spotted their foe, and nor was it a friend of Mirkwood. A giant spider, speckled in black blood from an earlier encounter, was crashing after them – a mass of limbs flailing wildly as it tried to pierce its fleeing prey. The forest shrank away from its path, recognizing that this _thing_ was a foreign and evil presence in the realm. Legolas took aim at the dwarves' company, and fired.

They had managed to escape the foul spiders, and yet a handful of the filth were still hot on their trails. Only two left thanks to Dwalin. But two nonetheless. And where the dense underbrush caught the feet of the dwarves, the spindly spiders sailed over the ground with ease – eight limbs obviously better than two in this scenario.

"West! West!" barked Thorin, issuing his company onwards. He had to find a clearing in this godforsaken place before they could stand and fight their enemy without a disadvantage. A clearing was ahead, he could sense the foliage easing back, and there it was….with an elf standing in its center, an arrow pointed directly at them. Before he could even yell a warning, the elf let loose his arrow, and it sailed within centimeters of his the Dwarf king's face, perhaps even taking some of his beard with it. Thorin gasped as he heard the arrow hit its mark, only to then cringe as a shrill, ear-piercing cry filled the air. He spun round to see the massive spider now dead at Dwalin's heels. His friends' face was in shock, as it scanned for the source, but there was no time to investigate, as a second spider sped after their path. Dwalin and Nori both loosed their weapons, and prepared to swing at the beast, but it too was felled by a carefully aimed arrow.

Thorin's breath hitched in his throat as he turned to see the elf in the clearing. He stood in silence, scanning the rest of the forest. Their eyes met, and Thorin momentarily was at a loss for words. Was he to thank his enemy for this gesture? Or were the threat from the spiders the least of their worries?

Thorin's eyes narrowed as he stared down the elf. A small breeze moved through his flaxen hair, and yet his face remained set in stone. Then, in the blink of an eye, the elf drew forth a horn and blew into it, no doubt calling forth reinforcements, and then redrew his bow to aim it at Thorin's head. Thorin cursed their awful luck, and his heart ached as he found himself wishing that Kili could have given them cover with his arrows. But his youngest nephew lay on his other nephews' back, unable to walk due to the two orc arrows piercing his thigh. Fili was panting with the effort of having to run with his brother on his back, and yet his faced remained stoic, looking to Thorin and curtly nodding to let him know that he was fine. Thorin's chest bloomed with pride as he nodded in return, and yet was unable to hide the worry on his face be it for the monsters behind them, or the threat of his old enemies before them.

What a tattered company he led. They were exhausted, wounded, and barely standing. Kili remained unconscious and Bofur was wincing in pain as he leaned heavily into Bifur's shoulder, an orc arrow through the meat of his upper arm. _By Durin what will become of us? _Thorin allowed himself thirty seconds of panic, before he stamped the feeling to ash, and returned to stare at the elf in the clearing.

The flaxen-haired one was no longer aiming his arrow at the company. He did not have too for it seems that his call had been answered. They were surrounded by the elves of Mirkwood.


	2. Chapter 2

**First thing's first! THANK-YOU to _AutumnSapphire9, LiL Princess Me, Nijntje86, MistakenMagic, and Happyday girl_ (love you girl!), for all of your kind words and reviews! Again, this is my first FF so it means A LOT to me! **

**Also, thank-you to everyone who has favourited or is following - this is going to be a bit of a slow build, but stick with me! I hope you enjoy :) **

**Warning: bad language courtesy of Dwalin.**

**And lastly, Disclaimer. I own nothing! - praise be to Tolkien. ;) **

**Onwards! **

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Legolas stood motionless, having lowered his bow as he saw the surrounding woods fill with the familiar faces of his kinsmen. No one moved, and in contrast to the wild commotion of just mere moments ago, this new silence was nothing short of eerie.

Legolas furrowed his brows as his eyes swept over the group of dwarves before him. He could immediately tell, by the way that his company almost unconsciously surrounded him in a protective motion, that their leader was the taller dwarf in the center. Indeed, he did have a stance that spoke of nobility and pride. And his armour was impressive, and...wait.

Legolas blinked as if to ensure that his elven vision was not betraying him. The insignia on the belt of the dwarf-leader..._was that?._...Durin! His heart thumped a little fast is his chest, although his face was set not to betray his surprise. He knew who this was! -_ Thorin Oakenshield had come to Mirkwood, and it was he who had found him. Surely with all the disappointment his father had expressed towards him as of late, this finding would impress him! _

So this was the King under the Lonely Mountain. And yet for all his father had said, when he looked into the face of Thorin Oakenshield, he did not see greed, nor lust. Anger, yes - enough to burrow a hole through his skull judging by the dwarf's intense stare. Anger indeed, and not fear but..._ worry?_ Yes, worry and concern were etched into the stony features of the dwarf king - his face could have been chiseled from the rock of Erebor itself. The king was worried, and it was not just because his company was surrounded.

And then, Legolas saw his cause for concern. Slung across the back of a blonde-haired dwarf, was another dwarf with beautiful chestnut hair. His face mostly hidden in the furred collar of the blonde. Blood was running in a steady rivulet down his leg, and the elf prince inwardly grimaced as he noticed two orc arrows piercing the unconscious fellow's upper thigh.

Legolas stepped forward, without a sound, nor a blade of grass disturbed, and yet the movement sent the company before him to arms and yelling, causing a slew of arrows around them to be nocked in their direction. But still Legolas continued, raising his hands not only as a sign for his own company to be still, but also for the dwarves to know that he meant them no harm.

"My name is Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland realm. I will not harm you master dwarves, if but you could show me the same intent!"

Thorin literally sneered as him, and looked about with frenzied eyes as an animal would, caught in a trap. Legolas stopped his approach, seeing that Thorin would speak.

"I am Thorin Oakenshield and I am travelling with a small company. Our journey does not involve you, _elf_. So be out of our way and we shall be on ours!"

Legolas sighed, _stubborn dwarves_. He had to force himself not to roll his eyes.

"Thorin Oakenshield, I know of your name, and the line of Durin. And yet, you have trespassed on the lands of the Woodland Realm, more so you have brought forth a darkness that has sparked a great deal of curiosity and concern". The young prince warily cast a hand in the direction of the two giant, dead spiders behind them.

"Trespassing was not our intent," growled Thorin, "as we were obviously preoccupied with our foes. Now stand aside _elf_, and we will be on our way."

Legolas pursed his lips, a small wave of anger rolling to the surface before he quickly rendered his emotions under control._ Even completely surrounded he remains rude and demanding - unbelievable! _

"Thorin Oakenshield, you and your company will come with us to Mirkwood. I assure you that you shall be treated humanely, and we will see to your wounded. But you may not trespass against us, and bring such foul creatures into our midst without answering a few questions first. I know my father will wish to speak with you immediately."

"Your father? Pray elf, tell," growled Thorin.

Legolas felt a strange pang of guilt surge through him. He was taking the dwarves out of a genuine desire to assist the company, and likewise learn more of the spiders? _Was he not? Or was it more from fear of the repercussions from his father if he was to learn that his son had let them go?_ Truthfully, the prince was in no rush to return to the halls of Mirkwood and to the strange moods that had befallen his father.

"Thranduil," answered the Prince.

It was a short response, and yet that one name caused Thorin to immediately stiffen and his face quivered with fury. He said nothing.

It was actually an elder dwarf to his left that spoke.

"And do we come to Mirkwood as guests or prisoners, Legolas Greenleaf, son of ….._Thranduil._ I think that you intend the later!" scoffed the elder. He must have also been of higher standing in the company, as Thorin made no effort to silence him.

"Master dwarf, you are surrounded. So come under what guise you may, but your attendance is not optional", snapped the Prince. And with a flick of his hand, the surrounding forest emptied of the elves who had answered his call. They surrounded the angered company, and not without a few scuffles, set about to binding their hands and tying them in a line. It was when Sedwyn, a particularly young and brash elf, reached a wounded dwarf wearing an odd, curled and furry hat fur, that Legolas intervened.

"Release him!" For Sedwyn had yanked the dwarf's arm behind him, attempting to bind his hands, and seeing as how an orc arrow was embedded in the poor fellow's upper arm, the dwarf let loose an agonized cry. This spurred his comrade with..._wait, was that an axe in his skull?_ ...to let loose a string of what must only be considered ancient profanities, and attempt to then head-butt any elf in his vicinity.

Sedwyn scoffed at the injured dwarf. "But Prince Legolas, he is as unruly as his companions!"

"And he is injured Sedwyn. His hands need not be bound. Can your eyes not manage to keep a wounded dwarf in your sights?"

At this, Sedwyn's ears flushed to the points, and he nodded curtly, backing away from the injured dwarf, who was now growling in pain, clutching his shoulder and wobbling on his feet. Legolas approached him, noting a sheen of sweat on his pained face. No doubt his wounds were infected, as orcs are infamous for their filth, and he was undoubtedly in the early throws of fever and delirium.

The dwarf with a chunk of axe embedded is his forehead had to be held back as the Price gracefully approached his wounded companion. Legolas came close enough to further inspect his wound, but did not touch him, and rather tried to capture the delirious and unfocused attention of the dwarf.

"We will get you care for your wounds."

The dwarf's head lolled back so he could better see the prince from beneath his hat. A large curled mustache, quite fitting considering his strange head attire, greeted Legolas. The dwarf looked confused, and sounded parched for water, and amidst the fever, also sounded almost drunk with pain.

"Well would ya get a look at this! Aye Thorin, another tree-shagger! By Durin, I vote for the spiders!," yelled the dwarf with smirk.

And with that the boisterous dwarf's head dropped to the side, and he fell unconscious into the waiting arms of Sedwyn.

_Tree-shagger? _

A few of the dwarves chuckled, in spite of their predicament and their unconscious friends. Legolas found himself rather flustered and annoyed at their mirth.

"Tree-shagger?", the prince repeated. The elves surrounding them were all but_ fuming_ now...albeit stoically.

Now both parties were even more on edge, and meanwhile, the dwarf who had made the initial comment looked to be sleeping rather peacefully across Sedwyn's shoulder.

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Dwalin, who now brought up the rear of the tied line, watched with a smile on his face as Bofur,_ that adorable idiot_, catapulted the situation from tense to positively seething. He reckoned that the next one to snap a twig, would end up with an arrow through his throat. And yet he couldn't help but smile. The large dwarf sighed, and raised his bound hands to scratch at an oozing cut on his forehead. "Well shit."

Bofur's drunken pain had ensured that the journey back to Thranduil's halls was not a gentle one. The ropes were yanked viciously, and more often than not the dwarves found themselves tripping on the forest floor, and being dragged until they could once again find their feet.

Dwalin snorted, and looked to the only members who weren't being dragged, Kili and Bofur. The two wounded dwarves were hung loosely over the back of accompanying elks...or stags. Whatever they were, they looked like dinner to Dwalin, and his stomach ached. "Well aint this bloody typical. The two loud-mouths who started this whole thing just get to doze it off while we're eating mud!"

It wasn't meant to garner a response, more so just be an opportunity for the gruff dwarf to vent at their current predicament, but somewhere from the front of the line, Fili had obviously heard him.

"Kili said nothing! He has been_ unconscious_, not _dozing_ for the past hour!"

Dwalin sighed, knowing how concerned the heir must be. "I know I know! But...well, he would have laughed!"

And to that everyone agreed. Kili was usually the first to laugh at Bofur's antics - he found him to be hilarious, and Dwalin had to admit, he missed their banter at times such as these.

"Quiet!" snapped Sedwyn. "We near the halls." And with that, the troop and the forest fell deathly quiet once again. Dwalin watched his king's shoulder's tense and straighten as they neared the halls of Mirkwood, and Thranduil.

"We are with you Thorin," he mumbled, earning a vicious jab to the shoulder from the butt of Sedwyn's bow. And to that, everyone agreed.

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**Next up, some Thorin meets Thranduil...again. And some Hurt/Kili!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**TWO chapter in ONE day!? Wow am I ever cruising for brownie points! :P**

**But in all seriousness, THANK-YOU so much to KasuKasu for the inspiring review! You are too kind!**

**And thank-you to all who continue to read, follow and favourite! Being the amateur that I am, I assure you that any feedback and reviews are GREATLY appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I own NOTHING - praise be to Tolkien ;)**

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The halls of Mirkwood were dimly lit with torches as the day faded into dusk. The dwarves, now beyond irritated and covered in mud, were marched like common livestock into the main throne room. Massive blooming vines hung from the ceilings, and worked their way through the walls as if they too were part of the earth. Nori, the ever-observant thief, was looking about the massive, vaulted-room with a look of mixed awe and confusion. He stood next to Dwalin, craning his neck to see the ceiling rafters.

"I've never seen so many _flowers and leaves_ in a throne room!", he whispered to Dwalin, his disgust audible. Unfortunately it was a whisper load enough for everyone to hear, and Dwalin was amused by this.

The large, tatooed dwarf sighed. "That's what happen when ya go about munchin' on nothing but fruit all day! It effects your brain _and_ your decor!"

Nori snorted at this, which earned him the same sharp jab to the back from Sedwyn, that Dwalin had just recieved.

"Silence! Isolent fools! You stand in the halls of Thranduil!," snapped Sedwyn. Legolas cast him a wary glance - the young elf was always so desperate to please his father. _Perhaps if he had put forth Sedwyn's effort, he would find himself more in his father's good graces as of late?_ The prince considered this and frowned, just as his Father, in all the robes befitting a banquet, swept in to the throne room.

At first his father seemed in a good mood, and then his eyes travelled to the guards at the main doors, who stood with the corpse of the slain spider which had been dragged along by the party for further inspection. A look flashed across his glowing face that Legolas could not quite understand..._was it anger? Rage? Surely not_. But whatever panged his father in that moment, it cast a dour mood on the rest of the proceedings.

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His father's introduction to the company was a slow one, as he surveyed each and every dwarf, proceeding down the line, and finally stopping on Thorin.

"My, my. If it is not the kingdomless King."

Thorin growled, and his words dripped with the ache of long-overdue vengeance, as he stared down Thranduil. "Well if it isn't the _cowardly_ King, who would rather run and hide in his trees than come to the aid of his..._former_ allies."

For a moment, there was silence, and then Thranduil, without a note of warning, delivered a vicious backhand to Thorin's face, causing Legolas to start in surprise. _This was not like his father, or perhaps he had just never seen this side?_

There was a response of grumblings and a few threats that emanated down the bound line, as their leader was so openly disrespected. But Thorin paid no mind to the comments, and instead, stood even straighter, spat out blood that had formed in his mouth and continued to stare down Thranduil. Realizing that hitting the dwarf would only reach an impasse, the elf king gave the impression of boredom with his old enemy and turned abruptly.

"Do not blame the gold sickness that drove your kingdom to the ruin of Smaug, on me..._ old ally_." The last part of his response was laced with sarcasm. "Besides, must we care so much for the past, when it is the present that troubles me so? Not only do you trespass against Mirkwood, but you slew a creature of the Woodland realm." There were audible gasps of shock as the King pointed over to the foul corpse of the spider.

Before Thorin or any of the dwarves could defend themselves against the king's absurd claims, Legolas stepped forward.  
"Adar, you see that those are my arrows that protrude from the beast. Surely it is not of the Woodland realm. I shot the creature, as it was chasing the company of dwarves. I sensed only evil in its' life-force."

Thranduil turned to look at his son with a look of visible disdain. Legolas was confused by this, and apparently so were the dwarves who looked to one another with raised eyebrows regarding the behaviour of the elf King. Thandruil ignored them, and turned back to Thorin.  
"So you march evil into our lands? I see! And what business have you here Thorin Oakenshield? What brings my _old ally_ to Mirkwood with evil at his heels?"

And with this, Legolas watched as Thorin and Thranduil engaged in a back-and-forth argument, Thorin never once revealing the purpose of the company's journey. As he watched the ordeal, frustrated and confused by his father's response, a small voice sounded from next to him.  
"Thank-you, Master Greenleaf."

Legolas looked down, to see the large eyes of a halfling starring up at him from beneath sandy curls. He had seen the hobbit only after the company had been tied in to a line, for the short fellow hid easily behind the bulk of his companions. He had cursed himself at the time, for not being more observant. And now, looking down to the hobbit, he was unsure as to how to respond, although the comment did sound genuine.

"You thank me?...er, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire?," whispered the Prince, careful to avoid being heard by his father, who was still engaged in arguing with Thorin.  
The hobbit nodded, rather-matter-of-factly, "Why yes. You shot the spiders. And just now, you could have let the blame for that act fall on us. So thank-you".Legolas gave a harsh nod to Bilbo, almost embarrassed at the show of gratitude, considering that the halfling was still bound along with all of his companions. But their side-moment was soon interrupted.

"ENOUGH! To the dungeons with the lot!" barked Thranduil.

And then, from the corner of the hall, a barely-audible moan. One of the wounded dwarves was stirring, no doubt woken by all the yelling. It was the dwarf with the chestnut hair, and his slow movements set all the guards around him on edge. Legolas sighed at their unease and quickly crossed the throne room to stand at his side as he tried to rouse himself from unconsciousness.

The elf knelt down next to the dwarf, and noted how young the fellow was. In fact, were it not for the stubble across his face, he could have passed for a short elf - he certainly was handsome enough to warrant such a compliment.  
"Master dwarf, do not panic. But you are captive in the halls of Mirkwood, and your company is with you. Your hands are bound before you as we try to ascertain your purpose. You have also been injured."

The young dwarf ground his teeth in pain and hissed sharply as he tried to move his right leg, blood now pooling beneath his thigh on to the stone floor. His large eyes met the young prince's, and it was true that fever was now upon him, and yet, he .._.smiled?_ A small smirk and a nod to Legolas, "Yes, judging by the arrows, I figured I was injured. My name is Kili." It was a brief response that left the elf-prince dumbfounded yet again after just speaking with Bilbo, and he was unable to respond at first.

Kili stretched from his seated position to look past Legolas' shoulder to where the rest of his companions stood bound. All were now anxiously looking back to him. The young dwarf finally locked eyes with Thorin. "Uncle? Where is Fili?", for he could not see him past the Prince knelt before him.

Thorin hissed, obviously too late in urging the dwarf to be silent, and now cast a frantic glance to Thranduil, who for some reason was now grinning with malice.

"Uncle is it? Well my my, a_ family affair_ for the line of Durin!" Thranduil started to approach his son, who still knelt on one knee besides Kili, and it was this slow approach that sent Fili into a fit. He began thrashing at the guards, and pulling at his bonds, effectively knocking over most of the line with his efforts.

Sedwyn was one who tried to restrain him, beating him about the back in order to gain his submission, and yet, the young blonde dwarf continued to struggle trying to reach Kili. Now even Thorin, still bound, was trying to quell the fury of the young dwarf.

"My lord!" cried Sedwyn, holding Fili in a chokehold, "this one is feral!"

Legolas stood, no longer able to stand idle while Fili was being beaten down. "He is not feral, Sedwyn. He is a brother."  
And with that he turned to look down at Kili, who had a look on his face that confirmed his fears - they were brothers. And now his father knew as well. Usually, he would have felt no concern, and yet the shadow that he had seen creeping across his Adar's fair features made him nervous for all who crossed his path.

Thranduil had thankfully stopped approaching Kili, and was staring at Fili with a look of nothing short of pure amusement. This look made Legolas feel extremmley uneasy, and he opted to try and distract him while all was quiet.

"Adar, this dwarf and his comrade are injured. I assured them we would see to their wounds. Perhaps the dungeons would not be fit for these two, considering their condition. They need our attention."

Thranduil quickly crossed the space between him and his son, to stand face to face with the young and very startled Prince, and for a moment, the palpable silence between them had no one breathing. Legolas stared deep into his eyes - dark were the waters there, that once used to sparkle as fresh fallen snow.

Thranduil spun quickly, leaving his son completely taken aback as he then began to mock him openly.

"Adar,_ Adar, Adar!_," he sneered in a cruel impression. "Do you forget that I am lord and king of this realm!? I ALONE AM..._**accccckkkk**akch achkk**"_ Thranduil's shouts were interrupted by yet another short-lived fit of coughing, to which Legolas tried to ignore so as not to embarrass him in front of the captive dwarves.

"No Ad-...my Lord. I only meant to address..."

"Silence!"

And Legolas fell silent, and yet for some reason, he would not move from his place between his father and Kili, a sense of dread filling his chest.

The coughing seemed to have momentarily weakened the elf-king, and he set to lounging in his great throne, nonchalantly examining his nails and hands, as if oblivious to all who stood waiting for his next words.

"Actually, perhaps I have spoken to harshly to you my son," he finally muttered, "for you have indeed raised a good point in spite of your youth and inexperience". Legolas winced at his father's cruel words, and Thranduil tented his fingers, locking eyes with Thorin who was still shooting daggers in his direction.

"Take the company to the dungeons, EXCEPT for the whelp in the corner, and that unconscious fellow over there, " and he cast a dismissive hand towards Bofur, who was still unconscious and propped up against Bombur's rotund stomach.

"Oh and Thorin Oakenshield, and the other Durin scamp...annnnnnd..." Thranduil took his long finger and pointed at each dwarf in the bound line, trying to determine who else he should name. He smiled viciously as his eyes came to rest on the halfling.

"Annnnnnd the halfling. They can all accompany their wounded to the ward to assist with the...surgery."

With his last words, loud shouts flew from all the dwarves but those named, as they were too stunned to speak. One actually begged to replace the halfling - it was Oin. "Please Lord Thranduil, I am a healer! Permit me to accompany you!"

Thranduil laughed in response. "Oh yes, Master Oin, the dwarves are _so renowned_ for their healing!" Oin could only snarl in disgust at the King's sarcasm.  
"No, I think not," pouted Thranduil. "Besides, you do not amuse me, and that sturdy little _creature _does..._*accckk ***ahhckkk accckkk ***"_ The King pointed to Bilbo, as another coughing fit had him bent over in his throne. Two guards approached him with concern, and yet the king waved them away. And poor Bilbo who now had a look of horror plastered on his face, was still reeling from the King's orders. _Surgery?_

Oin cleared his throat as the King finished coughing, wiping dark phelgm from his hand. "Perhaps my healing skills will be useful after all? It seems for all your pomp that you are not able to heal even yourself!" snapped the healer.

"Oin," whispered Thorin, which urged the healer to stay quiet.

All were now silent, as if unsure what to do. Thranduil rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.  
"Well!? Move! To the dungeons and to the surgical ward!"

The guards snapped to attention and started untying the dwarves, and hauling them off in different directions. Legolas turned to Kili, and shot two guards a warning as they tried to approach him.

"I shall carry him to the ward. I suggest you try to keep his brother from throttling Sedwyn." And Fili did indeed have his hands wrapped around Sedwyn's throat as he wrestled to break free and attend to his brother.

Legolas could only watch as the guards rushed over to Sedwyn's aid and one delivered a hard elbow to the back of the blonde's skull, making his body go limp. The prince shut his eyes, wincing with visible disappointment at the guards' brutality. He felt Kili next to him, shaking with pain and rage.

"Fili! NO!" cried Kili. He tried to move but there was no strength behind his actions and he could only hold on to Legolas' arm as the young prince tried to still him. He threw his head back, and a frustrated sob wracked his body, the pain obviously becoming too intense after the sudden movements. Legolas felt his heart ache. He slowly stooped to Kili's level and lifted him effortlessly from the ground, cradling him in his arms.

Be it for embarrassment at being carried, or pain, Kili made a few vain thumps against Legolas' chest with his bound hands, as he demanded that he be put down, but to know avail.

Legolas allowed the young dwarf to beat on his chest as he carried him down the dark and winding stairs to the ward. For in the back of his mind, Legolas felt he deserved a bruised and aching chest as he considered what was about to happen.

With his chest numb, his heart aching, and his ears deft to the cries of the dwarves as they were dragged down to the dungeons, he clutched the dwarf closer in his embrace, and carried him in to the surgery ward.

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**Will try to update soon. Please review! _Anyone who knows my warped little mind, knows that there will be many more "uh-oooohhh" moments in store for the dwarves!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Happy Friday everyone! So WOW this was a difficult chapter to write! :S And I suggest grabbing a beverage of your choice before sitting down to read this, because it's a BIG one! :P**

**First thing's first: This chapter is dedicated to KasuKasu - the kindness, thoroughness, and sincerity of your reviews have been nothing short of inspiring! Thank-you for everything!**

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* * *

One of the elven guards had a firm grip on the back of Bilbo's coat as he ushered him down the winding stairs. Legolas walked just ahead of them, and he could see Kili's legs jostling as the tall elf carried him with a gentleness and grace that somehow did not seem to suit their current predicament. _The surgery ward? Why did that blonde loon choose me!?_ Bilbo took a deep breath through his nose, attempting to quell the sense of dread that was rising in his chest. He was picturing a dank dungeon, filled with all the unimaginable torture devices of Mordor_. The blood of old victims would be splattered on the floors, and the skeletal remains of an orc "test-subject" would still hang in chains from the wall!_ Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, _Don't panic you fool! Kili and Bofur are in far worse shape than you!_

The stone slower grew colder and colder beneath the soles of his feet and the company continued downwards. Not a sound could be heard from Legolas and his burden, except for the occasional pained protest from Kili as he begged to be put down. Behind the hobbit however, was a different matter. Thorin and Fili were not coming easily, and from the voices he could make out, it sounded as if Bofur had chosen the worst possible moment to wake.

"Bloody hell! What in Durin's…." shouts from behind him were lost to distant echoes as they sank into the deep stone walls. Bilbo attempted to turn and hear more of the commotion, and yet the elf behind him made sure that he kept moving forward_. That last yell did indeed sound like the toy-maker_!

Finally, Legolas came to a sudden halt before a set of beautiful, heavy wood-doors.

"Open!," demanded the Prince as his arms were full with wounded dwarf, and the doors swung open. Bilbo felt bile rise in his throat, his nerves raw. He could only imagine what was running through Kili's mind right now, the poor fellow.

"Please, don't do this. I feel fine! I don't want this!" it was Kili, and he was practically pleading with Legolas to put him down. Bilbo's heart broke for him, hearing the pain lacing his slurred words. And yet the Master of Baggend was once again, pleasantly surprised by the Prince of Mirkwood.

Legolas, still cradling his charge, looked directly into Kili's eyes, and almost cooed his reassurance. "Master Kili, I am afraid that you are _not _fine. You have lost a good deal of blood, and your wounds need attending. I will not lie to you. It shall not be pleasant, and yet our healers are renowned throughout Middle-earth. I shall be with you, and your friends are here."

Kili looked wide-eyed into Legolas' stern and yet serene features. He said nothing at first, and only nodded towards the open doors. "Well, I guess we should get this over with then?" He voice shook, and then a small smile, and one returned by Legolas. "You a very brave Master Kili". And with that, Legolas proceeded to carry Kili in to the ward. Bilbo was next in line, followed by Bofur who was being carried like a sack of potatoes by another guard, and Fili and Thorin, who still fought Sedwyn and his fellow guards with every step.

* * *

As it turns out, the ward was nothing like the torture chamber in Bilbo's mind, and the hobbit found himself relieved, and yet almost embarrassed to have immediately thought of such nightmarish nonsense. The floors and the walls were spotless. There was no natural light of course, and yet many lanterns had been lit, giving an illusion of warmth to the space. Two walls were lined with shelves containing the most beautiful array of coloured glass bottles; all of them neatly organized. Bilbo chastised himself again for thinking of orc skeletons – these were after all, the halls of the Woodland elves.

Three large marble slabs sat in the center of the room. Large lanterns hung directly over each slab, _or perhaps table?_ and provided ample lighting for each smooth surface. A surge of relief washed through Bilbo…..until the hobbit took note of all the straps. Numerous heavy leather straps hung from the sides of the marble slabs_ Well that's odd?…_

As Bilbo was moved past the tables, to the back of the room, he could see that each station had a stone stool set at the head of each table. The stool looked to be a mere extension of the floor, and it had decorative rings covering its base. The hobbit then noted that where the stools sat, the marble slabs were in fact not perfectly flat, as he had first assumed. In fact, there were many delicate lines carved out of the surface of the marble that trailed down the sides of the table to the slanted floor, where there was a drain…..._a drain?...oh my...Oh no. _

Bilbo went as white as the cloths that were neatly stacked in a nearby cabinet. _Fluids. Those carved lines would carry and direct fluid into a drain….and blood._ The hobbit's throat suddenly went dry as the horror of the elves' ingenious drainage system dawned on him. The situation that all of them were about to face became very real, and as Legolas neared the center table with Kili still in his arms, the hobbit suddenly felt faint.

Thankfully, it seemed that none of the others had noticed the room's _unique features_ as Bilbo had. Kili and Bofur were in too much pain, and Fili and Thorin were too enraged. Bilbo tried to focus on _not_ fainting as he watched the rest of the Durin line be dragged into the room. Sedwyn looked furious, and the hobbit couldn't help but smile. _Serves him right, the prick!_

Fili and Thorin were also taken to the back wall, where their hands, still bound, were chained to large iron handles that protruded from the walls. Bilbo sighed. _How typical of the elves? Even their restraints are intricately decorated!_

Thorin, now secured to the wall with a short length of chain, still yanked at the irons, as if to test any possible weakness in the links. "Is this how we are to _assist you_? Chained to a wall!?"

Thorin's question was directed at Legolas, the only elf who had shown a willingness to converse, and thus build some manner of rapport that was not hostile. But Legolas did not answer. Instead, all of the prince's attention was focussed on Kili.

Ever so gently, the prince carried the young dwarf to the table, and set him down in a seated position, careful as to not jostle his leg any further. Poor Kili's breeches were now thoroughly soaked through with blood, and any hint of a movement had the dwarf squeezing his fists and grinding his teeth. Kili propped himself up on his elbows, and actually permitted Legolas to more carefully inspect his leg.

"Please try and stay still," advised the elf-prince, his face giving no indication as to the severity of Kili's leg wound. Kili only nodded sharply, and started breathing through his nose, no doubt in an attempt to control the pain.

Bofur on the other hand, was not carried in to the room by Legolas, and therefore, he was rather unceremoniously dumped on to the slab that was awaiting him. When the hatted dwarf hit the marble, his eyes almost rolled back in his head, and he clutched the elbow of his wounded arm.

"Oh yessss! That felt great. Yep, I feel juuuuust dandy. This is wonderful! Ahhhhhhhh….Thorin? Thorin where are ya?"

Thorin's voice boomed from the back wall, "I am here Bofur. I have been _chained_ to the wall, as has Fili."

The disdain was clearly evident in Thorin's voice, thought the hobbit made a mental note that the Dwarf king _never did really sound ….cheery?_

Bofur strained on his table to try and roll over and look to where the other two dwarves were held, but the guard who had dumped in on the table, pressed on his good shoulder so that he could do nothing but squirm.

"Ah, well glad to hear that you could join us! Oh and Thorin?..."

"Yes, Bofur?"

"Why in all of middle earth do you have such a grudge against the elves, I mean _I don't get it_? Their hospitality has just been lov…." But Bofur's attempt to lighten their grim circumstances was cut short, as Sedwyn quickly crossed the room and back-handed the dwarf across the face.

"Sedwyn! Enough! He is injured!" cried Legolas. Bofur spit a bit of blood over the edge of the table and looked to Sedwyn.

"Aaaaaand I was _trying _to pay you a compliment. By Durin you are testy!"

Sedwyn sneered at him, infuriated at Bofur's mirth and sarcasm. "He may be injured but he's a loud-mouth, arrogant _dwarf_."

"Ahhhh aren't we all though?" This time is was Kili who spoke, no doubt trying to draw the attention away from Bofur.

Bilbo watched Fili as his brother's voice registered to his ears, and the young dwarf practically leapt in excitement. Unfortunately, the chains binding him would allow nothing more than an exaggerated _hop_.

"Brother! Talk to me, are you ok? Did the elf hurt you?!" Fili referred to Legolas as if he wasn't still standing next to his brother's table. And to his credit, Legolas did not show any offence.

Kili smiled at the sound if his brother's voice from behind him, for he was facing the other way, still propped up on his elbows. "I am alright Fili! I've been better, I am not going to lie, but Master Legolas has been…_accommodating_, with all things considered." Thorin grunted in disgust at this, which had Kili smiling again.

Bilbo was in awe, for despite their severe pain, Kili's tone and Bofur's humour had managed to ease all in the room, and this was in spite of the fact that both dwarves must surely know that more pain would soon be upon them. Bilbo's anxiety was suddenly replaced with a surge of pride for being associated, _no, a member!_ of such a strong group of warriors.

And yet, the Master Burglar hadn't the time to dwell on this welcomed feeling, as the sight of Thranduil breezing through the double-doors had his anxiety immediately increased to tenfold what it had earlier been.

No one spoke, and the tension that Bofur and Kili had tried so hard to diminish, had returned with avengeance to the stale air.

* * *

Thranduil had changed out of the elaborate gowns of their earlier meeting, and was now is a flowing grey smock. The two elves that stood to either side of him were dressed likewise, and their faces were harder than those of the cave-trolls after sun-rise. Bilbo swallowed his nerves, and kept his eyes fixated on the trio.

"Legolas, Sedwyn, secure the dwarves to the tables. They are not to be lounging about," ordered Thranduil, his voice much quieter than before. "Once they are secured, guards -you may leave us. The only audience we need is already here."

Sedwyn was more than happy to begin immediately strapping down Bofur's legs to the corners of the table. It was when he reached the dwarf's injured arm, the wretched orc arrow still stuck in his bicep, that Bofur let out a cry of anguish. However, Sedwyn did not stop, as Thranduil gave no indication to do so.

As the arrow was sticking out towards the ceiling, Sedwyn strapped Bofur's wrists down flat to the table, so that his palms were pressed to the cold marble. Bofur could not muster much strength in his arms to struggle, and so he took this opportunity to start kicking his legs. But Sedwyn was stronger, and took hold of the dwarve's ankles and had them secured to the corners of the slab in moments.

"Ah dammit, let me sit up you pointy-eared bastard!" cried Bofur. Bilbo noted that this arrow wound had begun to steadily drip blood once again amidst the dwarf's struggling, and winced in sympathy.

"Pointy-eared bastard? Oh how colourful!," Thranduil noted with a clap of his hands. He then rolled his eyes in the direction of the chained King. "Really Thorin, do you still have _any standard_s for the company you keep?"

Thorin growled and muttered something under his breath. Bilbo couldn't make it out, but obviously Thranduil and the other sets of elf ears in the room _could_, and Thranduil and Sedwyn looked furious. The elf-king sighed, and took a deep breath to steady his rage, and then cocked his head to the side in a most disheartening manner to stare at his son.

"And what are _you_ waiting for Legolas? Secure the dwarf! We have wounds to attend, as _you_ so reminded me earlier."

Legolas cast his eyes downwards to Kili, and although his face remained impassive, Bilbo could see sorrow sweep across his furrowed brows. The elf-prince gently started securing Kili's wrists to the table, just Sedwyn had done to Bofur. And Kili, for the all the strength he had shown, finally started to panic.

"No, no! Please Legolas, please, I won't move! I promise! Just don't…not…"

Legolas paused only momentarily to look sadly at Kili, and then continued his work, moving down to the young dwarf's ankles. Kili continued to protest, and yet soon, his entire body was strapped down to the table, and the only thing moving was his heaving chest. Legolas backed away from the table with his eyes fixed on the floor, and Bilbo, although his heart ached for Kili and Bofur, lent some of his grief to the young elf-prince as well.

Kili's panic had sent Bofur into a tailspin, and he continued to demand to be let up, and shouted the most "colourful" descriptions for elves he could think of. In turn, seeing his nephew's grief and Bofur's anger had Thorin almost wrenching his arms out of their sockets to be free of the wall-chains that held him back. And if to only make matters _worse_, the two elves who had accompanied Thranduil each moved to stand at a table, and placed a large leather bit in the wounded dwarves mouths, then securing the notch to the table so that now their heads were pinned as well, and their voices muffled by the bit in their mouths.

Bofur was still trying to yell, and threated to choke himself on his own saliva as he could no longer pick up his head from the table. The room had descended into chaos, and Thranduil, for all that he had done, looked amused.

_Well this simply will not do_, surmised Bilbo. And without thinking twice, the hobbit speedily walked to Bofur's table and struggled with his lack of height to at first _climb_, and then finally sit on the stone stool that was directly to the top of the dwarf's head. Still ignoring the confused looks from all in the room, the hobbit sat on his knees so that he could lean over Bofur's face and meet the panicked eyes of the dwarf, albeit upside-down.

"Bofur. I am here. Try and relax," said Bilbo, with a sincerity that had the dwarf fixated upon the face that now hovered above his.

"Mpgf Ghhh," muttered Bofur with the bit between his teeth, and his body sagged against the table, apparently relieved to see a familiar face. Bilbo smiled, and placed a hand on his forehead, assuring him the best he could for one whose legs could not stop shaking beneath him.

The room had quieted, and much to everyone's surprise, none of the elves had rushed to remove Bilbo from his place on the stool. And yet, after a few moments of peace, the undeniable sound of pained wheezing filled the room. It was Kili, and with the bit crammed in his mouth and his head now as immobile as the rest of his body, he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Legolas please!," pleaded Fili. "My brother is claustrophobic! He is already underground, and now to be strapped down like this. He'll panic and choke!"

Fili looked on the verge of tears as he directed his plea to Legolas alone, who did not ignore him. The young-prince now looked anxiously between the two brothers. Thranduil however, had started to quietly laugh. _To actually laugh!_ at Kili's plight.

"Oh _this is rich!_ A claustrophobic dwarf!? Oh the line of Durin these days!" From the other wall Sedwyn snorted in amusement, which sent Thorin into another fit of bellowing threats from his place of confinement on the wall.

Bilbo watched Legolas as his father and the Thorin once again became embroiled in a battle of words, his fair face starting to show the slightest hints of frustration and exhaustion. Seizing the opportunity of his father's current state of distraction, Legolas flew to Fili's side and unhooked his chains from the wall.

Before Sedwyn could even protest, or Fili could even register what was happening, the elf-prince had taken Fili to the head of Kili's table, and had him seated on the stone stool by his brother's head, his legs now chained to the iron rings at the base of the stool. Fili made no motion or sound of protest.

Having seated Fili by his brother, Legolas quickly backed away from the table yet again, nodded curtly to his father who was now staring most vehemently at his son.

Fili ignored them, and focused instead on his brother, his face resting mere inches from Kili's nose.

"Kili. Kili! I'm here, its ok brother. I am here. Calm down. Shhh, it's ok."

And when Kili's frenzied brown eyes met his brother's, a single tear rolled down the side of his face, and he relaxed, trying to nod in agreement. Fili smiled, and swept his beard away from his younger brother's forehead. He then set to rubbing small circles on Kili's chest, and almost instantly, Kili's breathing calmed.

Bilbo and Fili then both looked to Legolas, who stood to the side, watching intently. When his sorrowful eyes met each of theirs, Bilbo mouthed the words "thank-you," and Fili gave him nod of thanks.

Legolas, almost embarrassed to do so, then looked to his father, who had still not spoken, and the elf-prince's face immediately fell as he noticed a small amount of black blood dripping from the King's nose.

"Adar, are you ill?! Your nose!" Legolas rushed to her father's side, and yet the King of the Woodland realm simply wiped the strange blood from his nose, a look of confusion crossing his face. For a moment, he seemed to look about the room in panic, before his eyes finally fell upon his son.

"Legolas? Legolas," stammered the King, his demeanor having changed dramatically from mere moments ago. "Legolas my son. I…you must…_kwirinhyde_. Kwirinhyde. I….," and then, just as suddenly as the confusion has swept across the elf-king's pale face, it was gone, and his eyes snapped back to attention, a dark shadow falling across his brow. His voice did not falter now.

"If you are quite done securing the dwarf, then perhaps you should go and see to the dwarves in the dungeon. _Sedwyn _will assist me. I fear that matters of surgery are not suited for one so…_meek_." Legolas winced, and but for the faintest second, his chin shook at his father's harsh words. And yet the elf-prince stood and faced him still.

"Be gone from my sight, and try and not be overwhelmed yet again by youthful compassion and naivety when you are seeing to the other dwarves." And Thranduil once again, dismissed his son with a wave of his hand, which Bilbo noted, was still speckled with the black blood from his nose.

Legolas looked warily about the room, and when his eyes met Bilbo's, it looked as though he was trying to speak. _But what? I can't understand you!_ The hobbit could not hide the despair now etched upon his features.

The elf-prince composed himself and bowed low to his father. "Ad-….._my Lord_. I shall do you bidding to the best of my abilities." And with that, the elf-prince gracefully exited the surgical ward, taking with him every last shred of Bilbo's comfort and hope.

* * *

_**spoiler**_

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_**spoiler**_

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_**SPOILER: Don't panic! Legolas didn't go very far ;) **_

_**Aaaaaaand there is a lot of HURT on the way!**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank-you so much for your reviews, patience, favourites and follows! THE REVIEWS KEEP ME GOING, so please keep 'em coming! ;)**

**Ok, quick TRIGGER warnings: This chapter has nudity, blood, bondage (sort-of) and a bit of gore and ****_suggestive scenarios_**** (if you squint), but this is still not slash, and rating stays at a T. **

**And of course, I own nothing – praise be to Tolkien! :P**

**Ok, heeeere we go…..**

* * *

Bilbo had watched the exchange between father and son, with what was _at first_, a sense of relief that Thranduil was coming to his senses! And yet, that relief was all but turned to ash as Bilbo watched Thranduil's anger flare up from behind the veil of a dark shadow that descended upon his countenance. Even the king's posture changed ever so-slightly, as if this strange shadow weighed a burden upon him.

Kili and Bofur, the poor souls, did not see this bizarre exchange as they were unable to lift their heads, and Fili was far too focussed on keeping his brother calm. And yet when Bilbo caught Thorin's eye, the hobbit could sense that their leader had not only seen it, but found it likewise as confusing and unnerving.

Thorin grimaced in frustration, but would not voice his concerns aloud, especially since the only elf who had shown their company any decency had just been sent from the ward at his father's orders. Angered at the Prince's absence, and undoubtedly for his lack of any semblance of control, Thorin absent-mindedly yanked on his chains, if only to further annoy his captors. But Thranduil and his comrades paid him no mind, as they were now busy gathering bottles and tools.

The noise of clinking metal and tinkling glass literally made Bilbo feel sick to his stomach. Indeed, the anxiety of their current situation must have turned his face an unhealthy shade of green, as he found Thorin staring at him intently, his brow arched in concern. With a few tilts of his head, the hobbit captured the king's silent message, and took a deep breath to still himself. _Yes, he was fine, all things considering. And he would look after Bofur, who warranted far more attention and concern at the moment. _

The hobbit drew in another deep breath and looked down to his patient. His heart broke yet again, as he realized that Bofur had also been looking upon him with concern. His big brown eyes, glassy with the throws of fever and unfocussed amidst his pains, still found the strength to rest upon Bilbo's form and express his concern. Bilbo nodded sheepishly, and patted the dwarf's hot forehead.

"I am alright Bofur. Although for this upcoming ordeal, I rather pity you for having me as your companion as oppose to….well, _anyone _else in here." And he offered Bofur an apologetic smile.

Bofur tried to shake his head back and forth to signal _no_. "Nnnmffph Ilbo. Tannnkk u".

Bilbo smiled, sincerely appreciating the muffled thanks, and kept his hand on Bofur's forehead. The hobbit tired not to start too much as one of Thranduil aides drew near Bofur with a tray of neatly organized, shiny and _very sharp-looking_ instruments. The aide never spoke a single word, nor would even lift his eyes to aknowledge them. Bofur was desperately trying to stare down his chin to see what was happening, and yet the horrible leather strap in his mouth kept him in the dark. And so Bilbo told him.

"Looks like they are finally going to get that nasty arrow out my dear, Bofur!" Bilbo made an attempt to sound relieved and excited, but he doubted that his angst was masked as much as he had hoped.

Next to where Bilbo sat by Bofur's table, he noticed that Thranduil's other aide had also approached Kili and Fili. Kili struggled a bit as the elf began moving around instruments on the tray, and yet Fili had him calmed again, whispering in his ear. The blonde must have felt Bilbo' intense stare upon him as he suddenly lifted his head to look at the Halfling who sat to his right. The minute their eyes met, the stony resolve and rest-assuredness that Fili had been showing to his brother instantly faded, and Bilbo saw that he was terrified.

"It will be ok Fili. It won't take that long I am sure. And they _do_ need treatment – the arrows can't stay in…"

Fili nodded, saddened by his inability to disagree, but gave a weak smile to show his thanks.

"Yes Fili, you should listen to the Halfling, for he speaks the truth," cooed Thranduil. The Woodland King then approached them and stood between the two tables, facing Fili and Bilbo. He was holding two short blades that looked to be nothing more than letter-openers. The king eyed them both and then turned to address Bilbo.

"Now, as I stated earlier to Thorin, we would actually _welcome _your assistance. The elves see matters of healing to be ….communal. A person's energy and subsequent ability to heal is increased should he be surrounded by the energy of others". The King paused to scrutinize the blade of one of the "letter-openers" before he continued.

"For this reason, any act of healing, any surgery, and any birth for that matter, always has others in attendance. And therein rests the purpose for those seats where you both now find yourselves". The king made a gesture to each Fili and Bilbo, as if putting on a display for Thorin who yanked at his chains once again.

"And yet, one can be useful beyond simply supplying their _energy_. Master Baggins, you for example, can cut off our patient's clothes." And with that, Thranduil nonchalantly handed the horrified hobbit the "letter-opener" an Bofur shifted nervously on the table.

"Uhhh, I…."

"You're mad!" yelled Thorin, from the back wall, "Thranduil this is uncalled for!"

"Is it!?" snapped Thranduil, causing Bilbo to jump. "Are we to risk the wound being further infected by sealing in fibres from filthy garbs? Are we to try and _guess _where the injury is from beneath linens?" Thranduil looked furious, but he quickly composed himself, turning his attention back to Bilbo.

"Well? Should it be you, or my aide? The elves do not shy away from nudity, and my aide would be more than happy…"

"No, I will do it. For pity's sake I will do it!" sighed Bilbo, hopping down from the stool. He took the small blade from Thranduil, and thought for a brief moment to stab the wicked elf, and yet he knew that Thranduil would not be stopped by such a small instrument. Nay, his rage would only be further incensed and it would be Kili and Bofur who would suffer for it.

Bilbo stared into Bofur's eyes before he began, and the joyful dwarf gave him a wink and then set to staring defiantly at the ceiling, showing Thranduil that he would not allow himself to be shamed, no matter what the king commanded. _Bless him_.

And then Bilbo began slicing at the sleeves of his shirt, carefully exposing the skin underneath. The blade made quick work of the fabric, and soon, Bofur lay shirtless on the table. The horror of his wound was finally exposed – the brilliant red of new blood oozing over the crusted black of what had already spilt from his shoulder. Bilbo winced as he started to try and remove small pieces of soaked through fabric that had dried to Bofur's skin, causing the dwarf to growl in pain.

"Oh Bofur, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Almost done!"

And finally, the last remnant of Bofur's shirt fell away to the floor. The black arrows and red blood stood out horribly against the pallor of his sweaty, heaving chest. Thranduil had been watching the whole ordeal with a look of mild satisfaction. Seeing that Bilbo had finished, he ushered to his aide, who took back the blade from the hobbit and led Bilbo back to his seat. The king then turned his attention to Fili, who looked as though he was about to pounce and _maul_ the royal elf.

Thranduil toyed with the blade nonchalantly in front of Fili, practically dangling in the brothers' faces. "I would offer you the same courtesy, and yet frankly Master dwarf, I don't quite want you holding a blade. Well that _and_ _you are_ chained to the floor so you couldn't reach anyways." Thranduil shrugged, and Fili continued to scowl.

The king handed the blade to his other aide who stood at Kili's side, and gave him a nod. Kili started to struggle as he felt the elf begin to cut open his shirt.

"But it's his thigh that is injured!" protested Fili. Thranduil rolled his eyes.

"Good grief dwarves are tiresome. The arrows are high enough that we have to see if poison has spread forth from the injured area. Now be silent or you shall return to the wall and _Sedwyn_ shall assist your brother."

And with that, Fili clamped his mouth shut.

Thranduil's aide had finished with Kili's shirt, and had now moved down to the dwarf's pants. A small flush of embarrassment spread across Kili's cheeks, who tried to turn his face away. Fili stroked his fingers through his hair.

"It's alright brother. It's alight."

When the aide reached Kili's thigh, his touch had none of Bilbo's gentleness, and he began pulling back the blood-soaked leather without the slightest hesitation. Kili tried to buck upwards, growling in pain, and Fili set to holding his head still, now almost frantic in the way he stroked his hair.

Once poor Kili was fully naked, there wasn't much else left for the dwarf to do but stare up at his brother and huff at his indignity. Bilbo gave him the courtesy to look away, although the horrible mess of his thigh had him temporarily transfixed. _Two_ arrows protruded from his thigh, wedged deeply in the flesh. His entire leg and most of his waist was stained crimson. Fili had visibly blanched and he tried not to look for too long, and remain focussed on his brother's face.

Thranduil however, showed the youngest member no decency at all, and approached his naked form on the table, slowly taking in every inch of him with his eyes. The king languidly reached out his hand to the dwarf's stomach, which immediately clenched under his cold touch, and trailed a finger around his navel. Kili whined and started to struggle and Fili looked horrified.

"ENOUGH!" yelled Thorin, who had been watching the whole ordeal. "You shall not touch my kin in this…" but a flick of Thranduil eyes quickly had Sedwyn next to the chained King, stuffing a gag in his mouth and effectively silencing the boy's uncle. Thranduil gave the impression of exhaustion.

"My word! Dwarves are so… _up tight_. Here!" And with a look of disgust, Thranduil placed a cloth over Kili's privates to silence Fili and Thorin.

"Now, where were we? Ah yes!" Thranduil gestured to both his aides who started soaking sponges in buckets of water that sat at their feet. And without a moments warning, both of the aides set about to cleaning the wounds, jostling the embedded arrows as they did! Bofur and Kili were both screaming as the aides worked, their protests muffled by the bits. Bilbo found himself almost panicking, unprepared for the sudden activity.

"King Thranduil, both of them are in great pain! Before cleaning their wounds, we seem to have missed giving them something for the pain? Surely the elves have more anesthetic agents than any other race in all of Middle Earth!"

Thranduil smiled at the hobbit, seemingly oblivious to Kili and Bofur's muted screams and shaking muscles as the cleaning continued. "You are right again Master Baggins! My, you are _clever_! And yet, no anesthetic can be spared at this critical juncture, especially with so many of our troops encountering foes encroaching upon our land. My first concern is to supply the needs of my own people…you understand."

Bilbo's mouth fell open as the king's words dawned on him like a horrible nightmare. He turned to look at Fili, whose expression rivalled his own. _No anesthetic?_ _This is simply torturous!_ Beneath his palm, Bofur continued to thrash at his bonds as his shoulder wound was irritated with soapy water. The hobbit's heart, already so cracked by their time in Mirkwood, broke again.

No mercy would be shown to their nerves this night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok! So HELLLLOOOOO everyone! Thank-you so much for sticking with me! Sorry this chapter took a little longer. There is_ alot_ of dialogue, and I really wanted to get the voices right. In this chapter, we meet up with the company that had been sent to the dungeons.**

**And can I just say, to everyone who has reviewed, you are bloody brilliant! I simply can't thank-you enough! For the follows, the favourites, and the reviews - it really does keep me going! I welcome any thoughts or feedback that you may have - again, this is my first story, so I appreciate it all!**

****And as always, I own nothing! Praise be to Tolkien ;)**

**Onwards!**

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The remaining company had been divided in to three separate cells. Bifur, Bombur, and Nori, set miserable in one cell; Ori, Dori and Gloin sat in the next cell, watching Ori attempt to scratch some runes in to stone with his belt buckle. And Oin, Dwalin and Balin sat in the last cell, the two elder dwarves attempting to ignore Dwalin's furious pacing. The large dwarf gave an exasperated growl and spun on his heels, driving his forehead in to the iron bars of their wretched confinement.

"Oh for _Aule's sake_ brother, what will that do?" Dwalin ignored Balin's protest and stood at the iron gate, gripping the bars with rage.

"Those _pointy-eared tree-humpers_ could be doing anything thing they like to them right now! Who knows what mischief is conjured in the minds of elves. And we are to just sit here!? Curse upon this wretched place!" Dwalin was positively fuming, and none of his company could particularly blame him. They were all worried about their companions, especially Bofur and Kili who had left them more worse for wear.

"And yet, it seems we do not have much of a choice right now. So be still, and use your head for something other than putting a dent in metal," advised Balin, his renowned patience effectively calming his brother…for the moment.

Dwalin sighed, and rested his head against the bars – the dank silence of their surroundings offering him no peace. He knew that a set of elven guards stood off to the left just beyond his sight-line. _Too afraid to stand any closer, no doubt! Typical_. Dwalin growled again, the need for a good fist-fight burning through his veins. _They needed to get Thorin and the others back_, and yet no one knew where they ever were.

"I hope your view is better than mine, old friend" muttered Dwalin aloud, with Thorin in mind. He turned his back to the dark expanse beyond the bars, and was met with his brothers sad, kind eyes. And Oin, well….Oin looked like he was in shock as he stared just over Dwalin's shoulder? _What in the hell?_

"Greetings." A flat voice floated out from seemingly nowhere, and hung in the musty air. Although he would never admit it, Dwalin shot about a foot in the air, horribly startled by the voice that sounded directly behind him.

"_Gods!_ Cursed pointy!...Damn stinking forest!" yelled Dwalin, angrily cursing his reaction more than anything. Snickering sounded from the other cells, no doubt Nori and Ori…._twerps_.

Dwalin spun around to face an elf who was standing directly behind him on the other side of the bars, a look of mixed curiosity and concern plastered on his face.

"That aint right, you hear? Sneakin' up on a fella in the dark! By Aule,_ it's rude_!"

The elf arched an eyebrow, and cocked his head to the side, obviously confused. "My apologies Master dwarf. I did not mean to startle you. I simply forgot that dwarves footsteps are rather …cumbersome, in comparison," stated the blonde elf, in a manner so _matter-of-fact_ that it could be mistaken as pretencious. Balin only smiled at this, as he watched his brother turn two shades of crimson and start huffing and puffing in anger.

"Cumbersome?! _Why you skinny_…"

"Dwalin! Enough," order Balin, who stood from his place, and approached the bars. "Perhaps he brings us news of our companions?" Balin shot Dwalin a warning look, and though still visibly infuriated, Dwalin took a few steps back from the bars, delivering a hard punch to the stone wall as he went.

"I recognize you from the throne room. You are Prince Legolas?"

The elf's blue eyes shone like diamonds in the dark of the dungeon, and Balin couldn't help but think of the halls of Erebor, laden with jewels. He sighed, and brought his mind back from wandering to focus on the task at hand.

"Correct, Master Balin. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. I have indeed brought you news." Now every dwarven set of ears in the dungeon was focussed solely on the young prince and the tidings he brought. It became apparent that Legolas was now aware of this as well, as his eyes darted frantically to each cell, assessing his captive audience.

"Your friends that were wounded are being seen to. Their wounds…..they will be treated. Your leader, Thorin Oakenshield, and his heir, are with them. As is the halfling. When the work of the healers is done, you will be reunited".

"In the dungeon?" piped Gloin from the middle cell.

Legolas looked almost embarrassed as he considered his response. "Yes, Master Gloin. You will be reunited…in the dungeons."

Balin pursed his lips, and leaned a shoulder in to the bar, pondering the Prince's news. Dwalin was more than happy to let his brother who was by far the eldest and wisest, speak on the company's behalf, as his diplomacy was direly needed in such conversations.

"Prince Legolas, I thank-you for your news, and for ….tending to the wounds of our companions. And yet, my heart remains deeply troubled, for reasons that exceed our current state of confinement. I must ask, why did you not send news of this_ to us?_ Why did you choose to deliver this message yourself?"

Legolas' face remained sternly set at Balin's question, and yet there was no denying that a ghost of sadness had flitted over his features. The young prince remained silent for quite a while. The only sound was that of a drip somewhere in the distance, a constant echo tapping on the stone. When he did speak, his voice was lower, and his wariness was evident.

"Master…_Balin_. May I address you in confidence?" All the other dwarves looked around rather stunned at the request, but Balin simply nodded, his wise old brows furrowing.

"Laddy, we are your prisoners. And as there is nowhere else that we currently _could be_, you may rest assured that you have my full attention and confidence".

Legolas nodded curtly, and his eyes set to darting about nervously to look down every possible hallway. Dwalin sensed the Prince's unease.

"The guards- they may hear you?"

Legolas shook his head. "No, I sent them away on an errand that I said had been ordered by my father. And even the precision of elven hearing is no match for the density of these rock walls". Silence again, as Legolas' crystal eyes continued to dart to and fro.

"Well then why is it that you look like you have seen a ghost?" asked Balin. Legolas took a step back from the bars – lines of worry still etched upon his fair brow. Thus far, he had been holding his hands rather casually behind his back, and no one had so far, assumed that he was holding anything. But when he brought his arms before him, the company gave an audible gasp. The Prince of Mirkwood was holding a severed limb from one of the vile spiders; the broken joint was still wet with black blood. In his other hand, the Prince held was looked to be, a burlap sack, wound tightly in to a roll. Balin had now taken a step back from the bars, immediately wary and unsure of the Prince's intentions as he stood holding the foul-looking spindle of a limb.

"Long have my dreams been hidden in shadow. An evil has come to the Woodland Realm that has seeped into our streams, and stricken the trees with rot. Long have I suspected this, and on numerous occasions I have voiced my concerns at council and yet to no avail. The shadow spreads, and the days grow darker, and creatures of long forgotten nightmares now tread freely on sacred land," and Legolas held up the spider's limb in with an expression of bitter sorrow.

Balin scratched his balding head and pursed his lips, digesting Legolas' words. Finally, the wise dwarf spoke, "But why then laddy, has Thranduil not intervened? Surely if _you sense_ this….evil, then your father must as well?"

Legolas nodded, casting his eyes to the stone beneath his feet. His voice had dropped to barely a whisper now, and Balin strained to hear him. "I fear that he too, just as the woods and streams, has been…_.infected_. His steps fall heavy, and his eyes…they are not his own. I see a taint of wicked upon his spirit now, and it pains me to no end. And as the days grow darker, so do his thoughts. His mind turns to dark suspicions and cruel intentions. I will not lie to you Master Balin – I fear for the safety of your friends. And this is why I have sought you out in confidence".

Dwalin was quick to push himself into the bars. "What do ya mean, you fear for their safety!? You said they were being healed!" snarled the battle-ready dwarf. And yet Legolas did not seem the least taken aback, and faced Dwalin directly.

"They are Master Dwalin, and yet I cannot speak for the… _civility_ of their treatment as _it is_ at my father's hands. This is why I am here. I do not have time to dwell any further. I came for the healer". Legolas looked past Dwalin, to where Oin was still seated at the back of the cell. Dwalin and Balin also turned to acknowledge their healer, who now stood and joined them at the bars. He gave a nod of his head, his grey beard hanging before him.

"Speak as you will, but do not whisper. My hearing is all but gone, and your…_kin_ have taken my listening-horn".

Legolas set down the spider limb and began almost nervously shuffling the burlap sack about in his hands.

"During a recent outburst of anger, my father cast me from the surgery ward. But not before his eyes sparked with the light of his spirit, for but a brief moment. In that moment, he repeated one word to me – _kwirinhyde_. I believe that he was trying to give me a message – to communicate with me from behind the shadowy veil that imprisons him. I need your…_assistance_, Master Oin, healer of Dwarves. What do you know of kwirinhyde – I believe human traders have referred to it as Ballybloom?"

Oin nodded vigorously, still straining desperately to hear the elf with his good ear. "Ah yes, Ballybloom. I used it many moons ago, to treat a young Prince Fili actually when he ate poisonous berries from the woods. Ballybloom is helpful for ridding the gullet of any poisons, and everything else for that matter. It is far from pleasant when it takes effect, and the reaction is almost immediate when consumed."

Legolas' eyes were wide as he stared off in to space, comprehending Oin's information. "Yes….yes, I can see now why my father would speak of this. I have seen him coughing in violent fits. Back blood drips from his mouth, as if his body yearns to rid itself of the evil that festers there. But how do I administer the Ballyboom? How can I find it?"

"As a tonic," replied Oin. "Mash the leaves into boiling water . As for finding it, unfortunately Ballybloom can pass for many other common herbs. You must know the distinct pattern of the leaves".

"Would _you_ be able to find it Master Oin?"

At the Prince's question, Oin cast a suspicious glance to both Dwalin and Balin, before cautiously responding.

"Aye….I would be able to recognize it. And yet from my current post I…"

"That's why I brought this," and Legolas held up the burlap bag for the inspection of the confused dwarves.

"It was the only feasible means I could think of for…_sneaking you out _of the dungeon to the outside woods where surely we will find this plant. I realize it is a grave favour to ask of you, and I do not by any means intend to insult you, but I must ask you to put aside your pride for the sake of your friends, Master Oin. If you would be so gracious as to step into this bag, and *erm... hold on to this limb so that it pokes from the top, I could carry you right through the halls to the outside as if disposing of one of the spiders' corpses". Legolas nodded with eagerness, and almost smiled whereas Oin looked rather horrified, and Dwalin turned red yet again.

"Well if you expect to stuff a dwarf into a bag, you have another thing coming you…!", but Oin held up a hand to silence Dwalin, and looked to both he and his brother with an indication that he had made his decision. Balin interpreted the look, having known Oin for a very long time, and nodded.

"If it is for the betterment of our company, I cannot forsake them. Although I must admit, this would not be my first chioce of travel. Oh, and NO ONE is to speak a word of this to Thorin!" Many heads nodded in unison at this request.

Legolas looked almost beside himself with relief. He quickly handed Oin the spider's limb through the bars, and the healer accepted it with a look of visible disgust. Legolas then turned to Dwalin and Balin.

"Master dwarves, I know I am asking a great deal given your current predicament, but I must ask that you step to the back of the cell as I open the door. You have my word that I will return with Oin, as soon as physically possible. And with hope, we shall return with the kwirinhyde as well. Only then can I attempt to rid my father from the evil that ails his spirit, and rid your wounded friends of his...company."

Dwalin bit his tongue, as Balin bade him to accompany him to the back of the cell, looking to the prince with wary eyes.

"Your word?" spoke the eldest.

Legolas nodded, locking eyes with Balin. "You have my word."

And with that, Dwalin and Balin stood back as Legolas slowly opened the door just wide enough for Oin to step forward. The company healer then began to climb into the burlap bag, which completely concealed his form. Legolas gently secured the bag, and gave two taps to the dwarf's arm, now hidden from view, and then hoisted the bag as carefully as he could over his back. Oin gave a grumble from within the bag, but soon fell silent, noting that dead spiders do not make any noise.

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With the door to their cell once again secure, Dwalin and Balin watched as Legolas gave them a final nod, before disappearing down a dark hallway with a massive bag of _Oin_ hanging over his shoulder. To any elf who would see the pair, nothing but the corpse of a spider would be assumed thanks to the limb sticking out from the ties.

"How do we know he won't just murder him in the forest?" snarled Dwalin, now leaning against the bars once again. Balin could only sigh.

"We don't, brother. And yet, we have little choice. I thought that his eyes spoke truth, and yet perhaps I am simply desperate to send any means of aid to Kili and Bofur, even if it is from our enemy?" Balin shook his head in disappointment.

Dwalin gripped his brother's shoulder and looked out into the empty dark of the passageway that had just swallowed Oin and the Prince of Mirkwood.

"We all want to see them well brother. I blame you not. I only hope that the Pointy-eared Prince will let me help in giving his father some of that special tea…after I am done _throttling the bastard_ that is. Tea should do _wonders_ for a sore throat?" Dwalin gave a mischievous smirk, which had his elder brother smiling despite the concern and worry that that boiled in his gut.

For upwards just one-flight of twisting stairs, two of their companions were writhing in pain at that very moment. And thanks to the bits in their mouths, and the density of the rock walls, their screams went unheard to the company in the dungeon. All that was to be heard of their misery, was the slow, steady drip of blood that had coursed its way through a crack in the floor. The slow, methodical drip echoing in the stillness of the dungeons, torturing its miserable inhabitants with the melody of a horrible clock, counting down what little time they had left.


	7. Chapter 7

**First of all, HUGE thank-you to everyone! Your follows, favourites and especially your reviews! The feedback I am getting is amazing, and it is so inspiring as a new author! I love responding to everyone, but for the guest reviewers who I can't respond to, just know that I LOVE your reviews! So a huge thank-you to Mili, Kim and Face15!**

**Secondly, I own nothing. Praise be to Tolkien :)**

**So heeeeeere we go! Hurts and Feels ABOUND! We leave the majority of the company in the dungeons of Mirkwood and join Thorin and the gang back in the surgery ward...*dun dun duuuuun! Please review - I learn alot and it makes me feel AWESOME! Thanks guys! ;)**

**Onwards!**

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From beneath their leather gags, the guttural noises that the two dwarves made while their wounds were being cleaned...well, Bilbo knew his ears would long be haunted by the sounds of their agony. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Thranduil's aide stopped cleaning Bofur's wound, and stepped back to examine his gruesome work without a hint of emotion on his face.

_He's not a bloody machine you lanky loon!_ Bilbo wanted to scream at him, but he swallowed the urge knowing full well that any outburst on his part would be paid for by Bofur, not him.

_Well a fine kettle of fish this is! What am I to...?_ Bilbo's thoughts were interrupted by his trembling hand. The poor hobbit was about to blush in embarrassment at the rawness of his nerves, when he realized that his hand was in fact _not_ shaking, but rather the damp forehead beneath it.

"Oh Bofur! I am a wretched companion for such procedures," Bilbo lamented, as he stared down at the dwarf. Bofur's eyes were wide, looking directly into his for some semblance of comfort. Sweat dripped down his dirt-caked face, and the aftershocks of pain riddled his body with constant tremors. Bilbo felt a wave of guilt pass over him for having been lost in his own thoughts while Bofur suffered. And yet, Bofur would not allow Bilbo to beat himself up, and the ever optimistic dwarf merely shook his head the best he could manage under the binding, and looked at the halfling with kind eyes.

"Weer nnt ilba." It sounded as though he was trying to tell Bilbo to_ worry not_, but he could mumble no more for his throat was already parched. Bilbo immediately wanted to ask their captors for some water, and yet surely it would choke the poor fellow if he was not able to lift his head.

_No water, no anesthetic? What's next?!_

Bilbo cursed himself for even thinking such a thought, as his answer came far too quickly for anyone's liking. What _was next_ was_ no warning_ from the aide tending to Bofur.

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Thranduil's aide had taken a very small knife, no bigger than one of Bilbo's butter-knives, and had begun to cut small incisions around the circumference of the arrow embedded in Bofur's arm. This had Bofur simply howling from behind his bit, his cries noticeably amplified from when his wound was being cleaned just moments ago.

Bilbo felt his heart leap in to his throat, and by some cursed instinct, he sharply drew his hand back from Bofur's forehead, as if the writhing dwarf's body was coursing with flames. And then, amidst the cries of the wounded, the sharp scent of blood in his nostrils, and the heat of pain and fever rolling off of his charge...everything ...slowed...

In the eerie stillness that had befallen his countenance, Bilbo surveyed the ward. First he turned slightly to look back at Thorin, still chained on the wall. The noble, heartbroken King was yanking at the chains that bound him in place. His long mane swirled about him as he thrashed to rid himself of the iron and tend to his fallen soldiers.

_Soldiers._ Fili and Kili! Bilbo's eyes swayed to meet their forms. Bofur's yells had startled Fili from administering calming circular motions to his brother's bare chest, and the young heir of Durin was now looking wide-eyed directly at Bilbo. His resolve, though steeped in a strength that would make the bravest of Ranger's weep, was close to crumbling at the sight of Bofur. For Fili knew as well as Bilbo, that soon the other aide's attention, who was busying himself over a tray of tools, would be turned to his dear brother.

And Kili, the poor lad's chest was heaving for want of his brother's reassuring touch, and undoubtedly at hearing Bofur's cries, knowing that the same agony awaited him as well.

Bilbo felt very hot, and then the edges of his vision grew smaller, and smaller as darkness began to stain his sight._ Oh don't faint, you fool! Not now! Don't faint!_ And yet, the fight seemed all but hopeless...until Bilbo finally looked to Thranduil.

The king of Mirkwood was not looking at Bilbo, but was instead looking at Bofur as his aide continued to cut into his arm. And Thranduil, despite the horror of another's pain and misery, actually looked _amused_. And it was that smug,_ sickening_ look plastered on his vile visage that brought Bilbo back to Bofur's side like a splash of cold water. And in that instant, Bilbo made up his mind.

Slowly the activities in the room gathered in speed and volume once again._ No Woodland King! Test us as you may, but the company of Thorin Oakenshield is made of the finest, sturdiest of metals!_ And with that, Bilbo straightened in his stool and brought his hand down to rest on Bofur's damp and impossibly hot forehead. The dwarf's panic-stricken eyes were immediately upon him, and Bilbo smiled.

"Bofur...I know it hurts, but you must try and keep still," soothed Bilbo, all the angst gone from his voice. With his other small hand, he rubbed the dwarf's uninjured shoulder and felt Bofur's muscles ease beaneath his touch.

"Whatever you feel, focus on me Bofur. You must keep focused on me, and _by grace_ if you can send me some of your pain, then do so as I will share your burden. But if you haven't the magic to send me your pain, than lend me all of your attention, and I will see you through this". Bilbo's voice sounded like a lullaby in the cavernous room, and although it was directed only to Bofur, all of the other members of the company, even Kili who still could not look over to the pair, felt calmed by his words.

Bofur's eyes rimmed with tears, and one single droplet of water wet a path down his ashen face, and the dwarf gave what measure of a smile he could. The relief was visible in all of his muscles and he allowed his legs to lag against the restraints. It seemed that Bilbo's demeanour had stilled even Thranduil's aide, who had taken a brief pause from removing the arrow.

Bilbo wiped away the tear on the side of Bofur's face, and smiled down at him, curly locks of his hair falling in his eyes as he leant closer.

"So you I have your attention Master Dwarf?"

"Nss ilbu. Nss," mumbled Bofur, attempting to nod his head.

"Good, now breathe through your nose, not your mouth. Steady, deep breathes, like this," and Bilbo found himself taking deep breaths as if to tutor Bofur. He was sure that the dwarf would think him silly at first, and yet Bofur started to mimic his slow, methodical breathing, his large eyes never parting with Bilbo's.

Even when the aide returned to the grisly work of removing the arrow, Bofur's strength was renewed through Bilbo's deep, foundational stare.

The dwarf's muscles tensed, and jerked in agony, and yet his cries were but were mumblings and whimpers as he fought the pain, and breathed heavily though his nose - _in and out, in and out, in and out._

"Good, breathe through it. And I will tell you a story just for you Bofur! Yes indeed, it is a fine story because it involves a particularly horrible neighbour of mine getting their.._.just desserts_, so to speak."

Bofur smiled from under the gag, but his kind face was soon contorted in agony as the aide hit a nerve in his arm.

"Guuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnhhh _hhhhh_!" Bofur's eyes squeezed shut, but Bilbo quickly had his hands on either side of the dwarf's face.

"Focus on me Bofur! Just me. Yes, that's it!"

And Bofur did focus on him, as he snorted and growled in agony, fighting with ever ounce of his being to not let the pain override him. For the aide was now in the process of removing the arrow, and Bofur could feel it all.

"Yes, so on with my story," quipped Bilbo, trying desperately to sound cheerful over Bofur's gasps of pain. "A rather rotund neighbour-horrible fellow altogether in fact. Needless to say he had a most bizarre fear of chipmunks, which is most unfortunate if one lives in the Shire".

"Gnnnnnnnnrrrrrrrhhhhh. _Aggggghhhh_!"

"Yes, well this particular hobbit had a nasty habit of passing out thoroughly intoxicated at every festival, and on one particular summer's eve..."

"Gaaaaaaaahhhh. _Frrrrraaaaahhh!_" Bofur's body jerked as the arrow was loosened, but Bilbo would not be swayed, and held the dwarf's attention.

"Well, on one particular summer's eve, festival season of course, he sat far too close to a display of fireworks. Rest assured you will see the chipmunk and fireworks connection shortly..."

And so, Bilbo told Bofur his story of how a fool-of-a-Took came to believe that he was being chased by a fire-breathing chipmunk that could also fly through the sky and shoot flaming sparks at all who dared oppose him. And Bofur, bless his heart, well his big eyes watered with pain he still managed to laugh throughout the whole ordeal, his eyes never leaving Bilbo's round face.

Unfortunately, Bilbo chose the least opportune time to look into the aide's progress. As Bilbo looked up from Bofur, who had visibly calmed and yet still shook violently, the aid pulled the arrow from his arm with a sickening _squelch!_

Small bits of flesh...no,_ of Bofur!_, still clung to the vile black arrowhead, now free of the dwarf's body. And Bilbo, for all the resolve he had mustered, immediately went greener than the foothills in spring, and bile tickled his throat!

He looked down to Bofur, and had he not been so consumed by nausea, he would have burst out laughing. For Bofur, despite his pain and the fact that an orc arrow was just pulled from his flesh, was squirming about on the table, trying to avoid the onslaught of Bilbo's stomach contents that surely would attack from above.

"Nnnnn ilbo! ocus! OCUS!"

Bilbo realized that Bofur was trying to tell him to focus now, and he held on to the table to steady himself and demanded that his stomach stay put for the time being! Bilbo gave himself a few moments of deep breathing before looking nervously down at his charge.

Bofur was staring up at him, his mischievous eyebrow cocked as if to ask if he was safe from any projectile stomach bile.

Bilbo couldn't help but laugh now, and rubbed the shoulder of the dwarf on the table - a sense of relief washing over them both.

"Now see? That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Bofur smiled from behind the leather bit, his body sagging in exhaustion and his eyelids beginning to droop. He nodded and smiled before his head lolled to the side, just in time for Thranduil's aide to begin packing and dressing the vicious wound.

Bilbo felt relief claim his entire body. _Finally. Stay asleep Master Bofur. Rest, you have been through enough this day!_

And although his face still bore the lines of horrible pain, Bofur had at long last fallen in to exhaustion and unconsciousness. And yet Bilbo's moment of peace however, was short-lived. For as he sought to gather his nerves from the ordeal he had just been through with Bofur, a sharp cry rang out from next to him.

They had started removing the arrows from Kili's thigh...

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_**Hmmmm...I think you should start feeling reallllllly sorry for poor Kili... for he is at my mercy in the next chapter *buahahah (evil laugh). **_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Ok, my SINCERE apologies. This chapter was ALMOST physically impossible to write as I recently broke my hand, including 4 fingers. So needless to say, it took me fives as long to type this chapter with my left-hand only. I hope it's ok! Just wanted to say that I appreciate and love every single ounce of feedback – your reviews, follows and favourites have been amazing. I read everything, I just haven't been able to respond much lately but time will hopefully heal! Please stick with me! L I will try to post the next chapter much faster! – as fast as I can type.**_

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Fili watched Bilbo with trepidation – how did the Halfling know to comfort Bofur in such a way? Was he supposed to do the same? The heir of Durin cast a wary look down to his brother, and much to his dismay, found Kili's massive brown eyes staring up at him, waiting for his big brother to _do something_.

"Kili, I don't know what to do," whispered the blonde, his cheeks flushing with shame. He hadn't even realized that the words had slipped from his mouth, his guard momentarily lax under the pressing gaze of those brown eyes. Kili couldn't even respond to Fili, but he tried.

"Naright. Greddhm pinty rred alves"

Fili smiled down at his brother and huffed. Even with the leather strap gagging his brother, he had no problem understanding him. Years of sleeping in the same room and eating at the same table had seen to the development of a language unique to siblings – one that could be spoken without words, and heard without sound.

"Ory," panted Kili. He had sensed that Thranduil other aide had approached his side, and could hear the elf tinkering with all sorts of grisly instruments.

"Ori? Ori's fine."

Kili rolled his eyes in frustration and looked back up to meet Fili's confused face.

"Nnn 'ell ory"

Fili smirked when it dawned on him. "Oh, yes. _Tell you a story_….well, let's erm, um" Fili was suddenly distracted and visibly tensed as he watched Thranduil's aide approach Kili's thing with a pair of pliers. Kili of course sensed his brother's anxiety, and began to panic and pull at his bonds although his reaction did nothing to slow the approach of the pliers.

"Stop moving for Durin's sake, you'll make it worse you brat!"

Kili instantly stopped and looked up at his brother, appearing even more wounded if that was a possibility. They shared an intense stare, before Kili finally relented with a smirk.

"Idot"

Fili laughed in spite of himself. "Yes yes, I'm an idiot, and you are a brat. So why would you want an idiot to tell you a…"

"_Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkkkkkkkk kkkkk aaaaaaaaaaaaaggghh_"

Kili let lose a guttural scream that almost had Fili falling off his stool. The young dwarf's prone body arched in pain, spasms shooting through his legs. He was trying in vain to move his injured leg away from Thranduil's aide, and yet the elf paid him no mind and simply clamped a large pale hand over Kili's knee as to better hold him in place. Again he approached with the pliers, and Fili now realized what he was doing. The pliers also acted as a slicing tool, and easily snapped through the shafts of the assaulting arrows. Fili could see that the aide was making no attempt to be gentle. He would give a tug at the arrow shaft as he was snapping off the excess shaft with the pliers.

"You cantankerous _prick!_ Easy will ya!?" Fili yelled, hardly able to contain himself as his brother writhed in pain beneath the elf's cold hands. The only indication that the aide gave to acknowledging Fili, was to raise his head from Kili's thigh and look to Thranduil, his eyebrow arched in question.

Thranduil sighed in exhaustion, pinching the bridge of his nose as he approached Kili's table.

"One more outburst like that Master Dwarf, and you will find yourself next to your Uncle." Thranduil's gaze swept past Fili's shoulder to the back wall, where Thorin was still undoubtedly shooting all manners of hellfire at elf-king. Thranduil smiled pausing for a moment before addressing his aid.

"Continue. Those arrows need to come out. Make haste."

The aid nodded curtly, and much to Fili's horror, returned to his ministrations on his brother's leg. Fili could only watch at the aid began to cut into the sore and bruised flesh through which the arrows had brutally made their path. The arrow heads themselves were embedded in Kili's thigh, and the aid was undoubtedly preoccupied with not hitting an artery as he failed to notice the suffering of his patient. Kili was now almost hyperventilating, and choking on his own saliva under the constraint of the gag. Fili could only sit, holding the side of his brother's face as he fought to maintain any semblance of control let alone dignity. But _by Durin!_, he was strapped to a table practically naked, with the two dwarves he most respected in this world looking upon him as pain wracked every fibre of his being. Fili knew that he could not let this feeling of sheer helplessness get the better of him yet again, and to quell such insecurity, he must act for Kili's sake. And so he did all he could. He bent low to his brother's face, so that he mouth was right beside his ear.

"Kili," he whispered. "These pointy-eared tree humpers _want_ you to scream. Don't give them the satisfaction. It's ok. I'm here. I'm here. I'm here," he soothed, over and over again. He ran his fingers through Kili's dark locks, soothing him as he did when the lad was 30 and had fallen from the lower branches of a poplar. He had broken his leg, and while the two waited for Thorin to arrive, Fili had told him his favourite story to try and keep his mind off the pain. And even now, for all his pain, Kili reacted as only his brother knew he would – he smiled, and steeled himself the best he could.

Every now and again, Fili would look up from Kili's stubbled cheek, and see a violent smattering of red across the aide's horribly long fingers – his brother's blood, his life-force, was dripping away. And yet he did not falter. As Kili's blood slid from his wound and on to the floor, and Kili grunted in a painful rage at the indignation of it all, Fili never lost his place in the story.

He told Kili of the duckling, who was black and looked very different from his cloud-white siblings. Often criticized for looking different, the duckling grew in strength and heart, so that it stood apart from fellow fowl not as an outcast, but as a leader. And when the fox returned to steal away the eggs from the pond, the black duckling was the only one brave enough to chase him off, as he had learned how to stand on his own.

It was his brother's favourite story – it had been since he was little, and Fili knew why. Kili was the black duckling in their village. He looked different and acted different, and as a result of rejection and cruel comments from those who would not take the time to know him, a void was left that should have been filled by admiration and the friendships of youth. But thanks to his brother's strength of character, a single drop of pity never fell in to that chasm, and it was instead filled with the largest most beautiful and valiant heart that Fili had ever seen. A heart that could warm any room, and lighten the heavy burden fate had placed on a family fractured by war and grief.

And so Fili continued his story, his own voice hitching in his throat as he tried to maintain his composure. Amidst the grunting and strangled sobs, Kili would look up to his brother as he had done for so many years, and smile. His smile was faint, and trembling, but it was there. But Fili could not take comfort in his brother's brown eyes for long, for soon he had them squeezed shut, tears streaming down the sides of his face despite his best efforts to fight through the pain.

Thranduil's aide was removing the last arrow head, digging about in Kili's thing with a lack of grace most unbecoming to his kin. The arrowhead was stuck, and as the aide sought to loosen it, Kili's breathing quickened, his cheat heaving as he fought for control.

Fili wanted desperately to hold his hand, and yet from the place where he was tied to the stool, he could not reach his grasp. Fili for his part, started to shout at Thranduil and the aide, realizing that his brother was losing his battle be it from blood loss, pain, or both. There was now a gaping hole was left in his thigh where two orc arrows had once been, and the sheet that Thranduil had so _graciously_ laid atop his groin was beginning to soak up the blood that spilled across his ashen skin.

Kili's tears stopped, and he made no more noise although he remained awake. His body shook from shock, and his beautiful brown eyes turned glassy and unfocussed as he stared about the ceiling as if following a ghost. _A ghost – yes, with one foot in this world, and the other in the halls of their ancestors_.

He would not last much longer. So Fili shouted more, ripping at the bonds that held him in place. Even when Thranduil and Sedwyn came to subdue him - hands grabbing his chin, and pulling his hair back - they were taken aback by his sudden ferocity. Somewhere in the distance, Fili heard Bilbo yelling, and Thorin's unearthly bellow muffled in to a dull roar from the back wall. And in all the commotion, he didn't even realize that two others had entered the ward, most uninvited and _yet most welcomed_.

_It was Oin!...and the elf-prince?_

Fili didn't even have time to react which he was later thankful for as he did not alert Thranduil and Sedwyn to the new presence behind them. Using a club that usually hung at his waist, Oin cracked Sedwyn across the back of the skull, and immediately, the lecherous elf dropped to the stone floor, leaving his father looking vulnerable and shocked before his son.

A fire of frozen white-brimstone shone behind Legolas' eyes as he swept towards his father and stood nose to nose with the King of Mirkwood.

"Forgive me Adar," and before the confusion and shock could leave Thranduil's cold features, Legolas had snapped back his head, catching his father in the face with a vicious head-butt that leveled the King. Legolas watched Thranduil crumple to the floor, moving swiftly to set his bundled cloak beneath his head.

"Long have you been lost in shadow. But no more." A deep sadness returned to the prince's face as he stared down at his father, undoubtedly conflicted and terrified. And yet the elf-prince regained his composure, even as he watched his father's aides flee from the ward, blood still soaking their hands and robes. Oin set to chase after them, but Legolas was quick to stop him.

"No Master Oin, we have not the time. Let them flee, others would have come regardless. Bar the doors!" Oin, nodded, and rushed to the large doors, grabbing a huge beam of wood that had been standing to the side and began to lift it to the latches. In no time, Bilbo was off his stool and hurrying to Oin's side to help him with the beam.

Seeing that the doors were at least secured for the time being, Legolas turned back to Fili – his mouth pursed and the colour drained from his face as his brother's breathing grew more and more shallow. Legolas looked directly in to his blue eyes, and then to Kili's wound, grimacing ever so slightly.

"I cannot offer you any guarantees as to your fate in Mirkwood, but if I can defend you by my bow or my life, I shall do so".

Fili could not readily respond, so consumed as he was with fear for Kili's life. And yet, when Legolas approached his brother, he felt no fear – no horror, although his heart continued to beat from his throat.

Legolas' piercing eyes swept over Kili's shaking frame, assessing the gravity of the young dwarf's situation. He sighed before looking up to Oin with a look of sheer determination.

"Oin, lose their chains. I will need your help. We must prepare Kili and Bofur for travel. The road ahead will not be easy, but I will offer you what light I can to show the way through these dark times."

Fili let go of the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. A glimmer of light, in a cavern of darkness. A black duckling paddling for its' life in a storm-ridden sea. Faint as it was, hope had arrived.

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**Thank-you so much my FanFic friends! Please review ~Luv, MzzMarie**


	9. Chapter 9

**OK – I will be short and sweet. I am so sorry for the delayed posting, but to make up for it, I am positing TWO chapters! Four hand surgeries later, and I am still healing, so typing has been difficult J**

**PLEASE REVIEW! It's like comforting chicken noodle soup for me as I get better! Lol**

**And as always, I own nothing – praise be to Tolkien.**

**Luvs you guys! -Mzz**

Kili felt as if he were sitting on a shoreline - the granular sand uncomfortable and stinging his open cuts. He lay there, with the waves creeping up the beach, further engulfing his prone form as the tide slowly came in. A tide of pain and agony - wave after wave crashed upon his legs, and then crept up further to thump upon his chest.

And he was soaked now - soaked in his own blood from the waist down. And amidst a strangled sob that would escape his parched throat, Kili thought of the blood that now made him heavy - that dripped from him, and then from the table to trace rivulets along the floor. The blood - his blood- was looking to return to that from which it came - the tumultuous sea that now rose and fell upon his chest.

Kili sighed, and took a shuddering breath - and from behind the sodden leather gag, he may have even caught himself smiling. _Yes_ - soon he could sleep - the waves of pain would cease to batter his frame, and would claim him entirely. His blood would drain back to the earth - to the mud of the foundations of this godforsaken place, and he would be at one with nature.

***"Kili! Kili! Stay with me!"

_What was that?_ _Fili, is that you!? Brother I'm here, on the shore! _

But the cursed waves drowned out his voice, and Kili sighed in frustration. He must be fully submerged now in the sea, for it sounded as if he were underwater when he heard his brother's voice calling to him. And then, just as Kili felt his heart sinking with the sand beneath the tide, he saw a murky visage appear above him. The visage was blurry, and yet he would recognize that golden mane anywhere.

_Fili!_

His brother was reaching for him, trying to pull him to the surface! Kili compelled his arm to reach for him, but he was held down, weighed down by the agonizing pressure of the sea. But Fili would not be deterred - he would not allow his brother to down before his eyes and somehow, the heir of Durin broke through the surface of that wretched water and grabbed on to Kili's shoulders.

"It's ok Kili," assured Fili, his voice becoming clearer as the younger Durin returned to the land of the living, "I am here. I'm here. Now you stay here too".

_Thank-you...thank-you, Fili_. _Wait - Fili, why are you crying?_

Whereas his arms wouldn't budge, his eyelids however, slowly started to open and he saw Fili's face hovering above him. His eyes were red and wet with worry. But soon a huge smile spread across his face, and he clapped his brother on the shoulder in relief.

"There you are! By Aule, I thought you had left us for a minute!" choked Fili, half-laughing, and half-crying.

"Can smm wul," mumbled Kili - still finding that his mouth was full of leather.

"Oin, get that gag off as well!"

_Thorin! Uncle Thorin! I would know that bark anywhere._

"I'm coming, I'm coming," mumbled Oin from somewhere to his left.

_Wait - Oin? How did Oin get here? Wait - where am I? _

And then it all came rushing back to him - the arrows - the pain. Bofur_, yes Bofur had been hit as well!_ And then the cursed spiders, stabbing at their heels and chasing them head on into..._Mirkwood!_ Oh ye gods, they were with the damn elves in Mirkwood, which meant that he was probably still strapped down to the bloody table in the surgery ward, and was writhing around half-naked in front of his Uncle.

Kili's big brown eyes finally shot all the way open upon realizing what he must look like, and he finally found himself able to speak for the first time in ages.

"Naked!?"

The sudden outburst caused Fili to jump a little, and look over to Thorin, who quizzical eyebrow was arched in his nephew's direction.

"That is the last of your worries right now Kili, but yes, you are _naked," _growled Thorin. "The elf-king with his sick mind, and vile thoughts, had you stripped and..."

"Please Thorin - such commentary is not aiding our plight. And I assure you, that my father's mind is only sick for the time being - he is _not_ vile. With Master Oin's help, we will seek to rid him of the evil ailment that plagues his body and mind".

Kili turned his head to the right, to connect the soft voice with a body, and saw the tall, slender frame of Prince Legolas - the elf who had carried him down to the surgery upon their arrival. Kili gave him a weak smile when he realized that the Prince's large blue eyes were upon him, for he had sensed an air of kindness in the Prince of Mirkwood from the moment he had first met him.

"Welcome back Master Kili - you were almost lost to your kind and friends to shadow, but it seems to have returned."

Kili smiled, and found his mouthy chalky after being confined in the gag for so long, and his throat raw from screaming.

"Aye, Legolas of Mirkwood. I thought myself drowned, but I heard Fili calling to me. He saved me from the current." And with that, Kili looked away from Legolas, and cast his eyes upwards, to where Fili was still hovering above him. His brother went to say something, but choked on the words, his eyes once again, watering - this ordeal would have been just as painful for him, having to watch the whole thing.

Kili grimaced - thank Durin for his brother's strength, for he feared that he would not have held up so well should their positions be reversed.

Fili simply nodded his acknowledgement to his brother, and rest his forehead against Kili's damp brow. And the brothers stayed this way for a moment, the surgery ward falling in to silence, as grace allowed them a minute to relish in their relief and exhaustion.

It was Oin who finally broke the silence - his kindly face furrowed with concern.

"Master Kili - I too am relieved to see you returned to us. You are far too young for the ancestral halls. And yet your wound is still open - I'm afraid the ordeal is not yet done".

Fili lifted his head - his mouth taunt and his eyes sad. At Oin's words, the relief he had felt for that blissful moment left him, and in its stead the familiar thudding of his heart against his chest. The youngest Durin looked about the room, and realized all eyes were now upon him, save Bofur who was lying on a parallel table with Bilbo standing by his side.

Everyone was waiting to see how Kili would absorb Oin's words, and Kili felt his voice catch in his throat. It was only upon feeling the thick, strong hand of his brother squeezing his shoulder that he found the last remnants of strength that his body had left. And for some reason, he found himself looking to Legolas, as a strong sense of deja vu came upon him from when the Prince had carried him down to the surgery.

"Well, I guess we should get this over with then?" He voice shook once again, and then a small smile, and one returned by Legolas. "You a very brave Master Kili - we will work as quickly as possible".

And with that, the surgery ward began moving as Legolas directed Oin to the supply shelves, asking for a variety of salves. Oin started grabbing bottles, and Kili could hear the rattling of glass as the healer returned to the table, and then quickly spun on his heels to search for bandages.

"Master Bilbo, would you assist me with my father? I believe Oin is more than capable of closing Kili's wounds. King Thorin, please allow me to attend to my father, while you assist Oin."

Thorin looked ready to snap at the elf, and yet managed to bite his tongue.

"I know what needs to be done lad. Do what you must."

Legolas nodded his thanks and turned away from Kili's table, clutching the precious kwirinhyde herb, to find Bilbo waiting anxiously by the still unconscious form of his father.

"Please let this work," muttered Legolas under his breath, for his Adar's life depended on it.


	10. Chapter 10

Oin had gathered the supplies he needed and then stood and braced himself against the table, looking warily from Fili to Thorin.

"I can't bear to put him through a cauterization – I fear the shock alone could kill him. That and the wound is too large – burning that amount of flesh would just cause infection."

Fili felt his stomach flop at the words "burned flesh," as he knew it would be Kili's flesh that would suffer. And yet he steadied himself when Kili's hand found its way around his own – seeking comfort as he tried desperately to steel himself for the further onslaught of pain.

Oin sighed, a pang of guilt hitting him in the chest as he witnessed the effects his words had on the boys. Thorin's face however, remained as impassable as the mountains, for he had seen much war in his lifetime.

"So a pack and seal?" questioned their leader, to which Oin nodded.

"Aye Thorin I shall pack the wound with a poultice, apply some stitching, and then wrap it tight. After a few changes of the dressings, we can re-stitch if necessary. The poultice will do wonders," assured Oin, looking to the brothers and trying to smile the best he could, "but unfortunately it will be painful for it contains salt to stave off infection."

Kili sighed and bit his lip anticipating the horrible sting, and Fili grimaced, undoubtedly feeling the sting already simply from the sheer empathy and connection that he shared with his brother.

Oin looked at Kili, a look of sincere apology written all over his face. "Lad, I do apologize but I must secure your legs for this once more."

"But Oin, we just got him…!"

"And Oin doesn't want to get kicked in the head by a flailing limb. Do not argue Fili – and do not forget where we are! Time is of the essence," snapped Thorin, who promptly put an end to Fili's protests. Oin, sighed, and set about to securing Kili's ankles to the table once gain. The youngest Durin was trying his best not to panic yet again, and lay with his eyes closed, breathing through his nose.

_Poor lad,_ thought Oin, _not for just the pain, but the humiliation of having an audience! Good graces, what a poor job it is to be a healer at times such as these._

Once Kili's legs were secure, Oin made a motion to indicate that he would leave the boy's hands lose so that he could grip his brother's hands, although he would perhaps regret this later, assuming Fili could end up with a crushed hand in need of tending.

"Uncle Thorin, would you prefer to help Bilbo? Thranduil is strong – what is he wakes?" pleaded Kili, a slight hint of panic to his voice which he was attempting to mask with his usual humour.

Thorin looked to Thranduil on the floor, and then back down to his nephew, his body shaking from shock, smattered in blood, and almost entirely naked. It then dawned upon him why Kili had made the odd request.

Thorin sighed. "Because Kili – I fear I would be of no assistance to Thranduil, as I would currently like nothing more than to put my boot through the side of his head," growled Thorin. "No, I shall let his son attend to him – I know not of herbs and such magic. But I have seen many soldiers wounded in my day – my place is standing right here."

Kili's breath hitched in his throat, and his eyes welled up with unshed tears. "Thank-you Uncle, I am just….embarrased to be seen so weak in front of my King," stammered Kili. And at that moment, with Kili looking up to Thorin with his massive brown eyes, and Fili looking to his Uncle for a response, having completely understood what his brother was meaning to say, Oin could have sworn that the boys were in their twenties again. And Thorin must have caught a glimpse of it as well, for something in the stone fortress of his face crumbled as he looked upon his youngest nephew.

"One must never be embarrassed to seek aid in tending the wounds of battle. You and Fili are warriors, and war does not come without its share of pain – I know this all too well. No, there is no shame for you to have here – only pride, for I am proud of you," said Thorin, with a stoicism that one could only get from a royal lineage.

"Besides, I may be your King – but I am also your Uncle. You forget lad, how you first greeted me in this world," muttered Thorin, shooting a sly look at Fili who immediately started to laugh.

Kili looked confused, and had momentarily forget that Oin was examining his leg wound. "What? What did I do?"

Thorin sighed and smiled, shaking his head.

"You peed on him! All over his new council robe!" laughed Fili, almost falling off his chair.

Kili looked horrified – but couldn't help but smile a little.

"Aye Kili, a wee screaming babe – the first time I held you, and that is what you did to your dear Uncle. So really you have already done the most embarrassing thing possible – nothing can top that, and this doesn't come close," noted Thorin, motioning to the table. It was so rare to see the King being candid with his nephews, but Oin's movements to his side soon had him snapped back to the role of leader, and he turned abruptly to Kili, which immediately wiped any traces of mirth from Fili's features, and replaced them with a look of dread for what was now to come.

Thorin looked eyes with Kili, and gave him a nod as if to rally his strength for one last battle.

The King under the Mountain then gently placed his leather belt in Kili's mouth, which the youngster hesitantly accepted. "Bite down on this. We don't need you swallowing your tongue."

Oin considered giving the boy a countdown, but opted against it. In his many years of healing, he saw that countdowns caused more anxiety than anything else. And so, without any notice other than some unspoken words with Thorin, Oin began to pack the wound with poultice, pushing the foul smelling mixture in to the gouges of the wound. Kili was fighting with everything he had to control himself, but his body was all but arcing off the table – a guttural scream tearing from his throat and strangled behind the belt in his mouth. Fili was crouched over his face, whispering to his brother, who now had tears streaming down for his eyes as Oin continued to work.

With the wound packed, and looking perhaps even more gruesome than when he had started, Oin begin to stitch, and this fin ally had Kili almost over the edge.

"Hold my hands, Ki! Hold my hands, almost done!" Fili pleaded, the pain evident in his face from Kili's death grip around both his hands. Kili's eyes were practically rolled back in his head at one point, and his breathing was dangerously reaching the point of hyperventilation. Thorin noted this as well, and placed both of his large hands on Kili's naked chest, pressing him down to the table, allowing Oin to work a little better. And poor Kili, well he went from strangles sobs, to low growls, to trying to plead with Fili. His ordeal was nothing short of torture from the very depths of Mordor, and it was getting to everyone.

"Oin, for pity's sake!" snarled Thorin, imploring Oin to hurry his work, although he knew full-well that it would make no difference.

Oin only nodded and bit his lip until he tasted blood, and continued to work fervently on Kili's wound. It was only on the second last stitch that Aule answered the healer's prayers and took Kili into blissful unconsciousness. His shaking frame slumped down into the table, and gave Fili quite a fright, but Thorin was quick to reassure him that Kili was only unconscious from the pain, and that it was a blessing in disguise.

As Oin finished wrapping and cleaning the thigh-wound, Kili's chest was like a hummingbird's, rising and falling with short, pained breaths. But that too, eventually slowed, partly because Fili, the dedicated and loyal older brother that he always was, had never stopped stroking Kili's hair and brushing the feverish sweat from his brow. Even far away, in hidden halls of his mind, Kili would know that Fili was there, for so great was there bond.

But not a moment's peace was to be had, because before Oin could even grab some extra dressings, a terrible ruckus erupted from the center of the ward. Bilbo had fallen backwards from where he was kneeling besides Thranduil, and Legolas was desperately trying to hold Thranduil down, who was making the most horrible noises. The King of Mirkwood looked wild-eyed and panicked as he coughed and gagged. Black ooze spewed forth from his mouth, and trailed down his chin like slick oil.

"Breathe Adar! Breathe through your nose!" shouted Legolas, imploring his father to cooperate. Thorin rushed to Legolas's side, and had Thranduil gripped by one of his shoulders, undoubtedly fearing that the King would get loose and wreak even more havoc. And Thranduil, amidst his gagging and coughing forth of the vile black blood that filled his gullet, looked upon Thorin not with anger and horror, but with eyes of pure shock, as if seeing him for the first time in centuries!

Now Oin was also standing with them, looking over Legolas's shoulder.

"Aye the ballybloom is working – look at the poison he spits forth!", cried Oin as he pointed to the small black puddle that had formed besides Thranduil, the contents of which were still dripping from his mouth. And the ooze, or whatever vile scum the King had brought up, did not flow into the floor drain – it _crawled_. Much to the horror of all in the ward, the puddle began to slink its way towards the floor drain, undoubtedly trying to escape back to the evil bowels from which is came.

"My word! It is moving! What _is _that!?" cried Bilbo, scuttling further backwards.

"Dark magic Master Baggins…darker than the pits of Mordor," whispered Legolas, his face lined with pain as he knelt still clutching his father's trembling form. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Thranduil stopped coughing and gagging on the black phlegm, and sank back into his son's lap, absolutely spent and exhausted. At that very brink of consciousness, Thranduil lolled his head to the side so he could better see his son.

"Legolas? My son…" croaked Thranduil, his throat undoubtedly raw from the violent effects of the ballybloom. And this time, there was no malice in his voice – no disdain, and Legolas's relief was evident as the Prince let his shoulder finally relax as his father lost his fight to consciousness.

All was once again silent in the ward for what seemed like a lifetimes. Spirits had been tested and pushed to their limits, but not broken – and the company herein was absolutely exhausted. Bilbo rubbed his dirty hands on his face, trying to rouse himself from the compelling temptation of sleeping right where he sat. He then heard a few grumblings from behind him, as Bofur began to finally wake.

Everyone, save Fili who was still stroking his unconscious brother's hair, turned to see Bofur prop himself up by his elbows, his chest still bare and bloody from the arrow-removal, but otherwise, the bandages held well. The toymaker winced at the movement, but stayed sitting up, and rubbed his weary eyes, looking about the ward in confusion at all the stark faces that now looked upon him.

"So," muttered Bofur, "…..what did I miss?"

And after the horror of their entire ordeal, and no doubt the fight that still lay before them, Bilbo found his smile in spite of it all.

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_**Thanks for being so patient with me guys - I am trying the best I can to type with a busted hand! Thanks for all the follows, faves, reviews and love! I notice it ALL and it always makes me smile! :)**_

_**-Mzz**_


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